Piano's Point-of-View
by Erisa Anai
Summary: New Chapter: I close my eyes, weighing the pros and cons of skipping Psychology, when I am hit with a memory. Hot and slick caramel skin sliding against my bare body, setting me on fire. I want you. I gasp and open my eyes, a lone tear escapes me.
1. Piano's POV

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, but if I did this is how I'd write it.

A/N: Fic starts up right after Quinn and Santana slap each other in the choir room and yes, this is from the Piano's pov.

**Piano's Point-of-View**

The Piano's keys dropped in astonishment. With It being the only thing standing between the just-slapped womens' path to destroying each other, it knew the chances of survival were slim. It still hadn't forgotten that their joint efforts had resulted in a previous purple piano's pyre. It looked to the door quickly, maybe the peace-loving blonde would come in and stop the violence? It continued to look at the door but realized it had closed, meaning the simple blonde would be unable to operate it. Well, at least It had led a full and music filled life. Before the Piano was able to start kissing It's strings goodbye, more venomous words were exchanged between the heated females.

"I gotta hand it to you, Fabray, you always were a genius slapper. But I know for a fact that you've got nothing more to back it up. If I was in a less generous mood your bloody carcass would be smeared on this piano. Lucky for you, I've had an epiphany. I've finally figured you out." Santana curled her plumpaliscious lips in a smirk and slowly circle around Me, trailing her fingers atop my surface.

Quinn blinked incredulously and laughed. "Haha! And what exactly do you 'think' you figured out about me? Please keep in mind that this is the longest conversation we've had in almost two years. Go on and enlighten me, O Self-Absorbed One." Her hazel eyes hardened as she crossed her arms, Santana was now arms length away.

"You're right about one thing, the whole 'projecting' from your old school pipe smoking, butter churning, flabby Amish boyfriend. It's not me projecting though, it's you. You are the one who wants me to be jealous of you. Why else, of all times or people to tell of your new big daddy, would you tell me?"

"That is ridiculous! I'm not going to stand around listening to your kind of crazy." Quinn interrupts and has turned her heels towards the door. Santana is right behind her though and grabs her arm and spins her around so they are face to face again.

"No Quinn, you ARE going to listen cuz it's the truth."

"Since you currently out power me I will humour you for another minute so just get to the point of your outrageous theory. Do I yearn for my father's approval so I date an older man? Was my mother always saying I wasn't as pretty or perfect as my sister so I want other woman to be jealous of me like I am of Fran? Tell me Santana, tell me what you have figured out about me that I don't already know."

Santana's hand is still on Quinn's arm, probably making sure she doesn't try leaving again. If I had ears, I'd be stretching them, not wanting to miss what is being said now that they are farther away. I am both saddened and happy over that fact.

"All of that is obviously and painfully true, but that's too easy. Anyone with eyes knowing where to look could figure that you've got problems. You're like Shrek though, an onion with many layers and many secrets. There's more to you than that. It's in your eyes though, they give you away. Just like the 'quiver of my upper lip' gives me away to you."

"Omg, I was not hitting on you."

"Just admit it, you're lonely in Yale and all your success is hollow with no real friends. You got out of here, great! But now you have no one to share in your glory. I know that in the past couple years we've been horrible or just plain absent from each other's lives but do you remember before that? When we didn't steal each other's boyfriends or spots on the pyramid, do you remember?" The blonde's eyes were trained on the floor so Santana used her hand to move Quinn's chin up. "Do you remember us being actual best friends?"

"...yes. What happened to us?"

"Besides Coach Sue? ...it was Brittany." Are those tears? Sweet baby Jesus, the Ice Queen can actually cry. It was heartbreaking as it was horrifying. "Look Q, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I basically forgot that you were my first best friend when Britt joined us. I'm sorry and regret so much of the time I've lost and wasted. I know I don't deserve it but could you forgive me? You know I'm sincere, you know this is only the third time in my life I've apologized for anything. So what do you say? Can we start over?"

Tears slowly trickled down from hazel eyes, the girls had unconsciously moved closer into their own little bubble of space. Quinn had yet to answer and it was visibly starting to worry the Latina.

"Quinn? I've missed you like crazy and I know you miss me too. I've been so stubborn about this and stupid so-"

"Yes, you ARE stupid San!" Quinn cries out.

"What?!"

"Yes, I miss how we were, I miss US. You were so close I thought you actually DID figure it out but still you think it's because I've missed our FRIENDSHIP? God, how could you see so much yet be so blind?"

"Ok, I'm totally confused now. What?!" My thoughts exactly.

"San, shut up!" Then the white girl grabbed the mocha one and kissed her. Sha la la la la la don't be scared, go on and kiss the girl. My thoughts automatically went to the Little Mermaid, where's Brad when you need him? Santana at first had her eyes open and frantic but then closed them tightly and now seemed thoroughly enjoying the ravishing set upon her. Satan got so involved in it that she bit Quinn's bottom lip, forcing a growl from said lips. In response, Quinn pushes the other girl back onto My bench and proceeds to straddle her lap. Santana happily obliges and grabs onto the blonde's ass, to secure her of course.

The heat and passion rolling off these two is blistering. Tongues and lips are everywhere and exactly where they need to be. Then Quinn slows down the tempo to a seductive pace and I feel a certain wetness coming from the Latina. The Seductress then trails her lips sensually from mouth to jaw line. Peppering that area with light, wet kisses she moves to a mocha neck. Boldly, she licks from collarbone to the back of an ear then sucks on the other woman earlobe. Santana makes a sexy sigh and I feel her start to quiver. "Quinn..."

"Santana, I've been wanting to do this for longer than I can admit. I've always wanted you but have never been able to accept it. You know how I was raised, you know almost everything about me, so you must know how hard all of high school has been for me. I'm sorry too. Sorry for not having the courage before to just tell you, even if it resulted in nothing since you fell in love with Brittany, but at least so much pain could have been avoided. I'm also sorry that I can't start over with you. I know now that your friendship will never be enough for me. I want all of you or nothing at all. It's not fair to you that I don't want to be out of the closet either, I'm just not ready yet. San I-"

"What are you guys doing?" WTF! The dancer picked NOW to come into the room? Where was she ten minutes ago?

"Nothing Britts, don't worry. I was just hugging San goodbye." With that she jumps off the dark haired one and embraces the other blonde as well. " I'm going to miss you Britt but I need to get going, have a flight to catch in the morning." One more wave and a lingering look is all she left Santana with...besides a pair of soiled underwear.

* * *

A/N: And so concludes my one-shot of Quintana, unless you guys want more?


	2. Santana's POV

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee so blah blah blah to you.

A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing, means a lot to me. Also, this shall from this day forth be a multi-shot! Hold the applause until the end, please. Without further a due, Santana's pov.

**Piano's Point-of-View**

**Santana's Point-of-View**

I think this is what people call an out-of-body experience. I see myself just sitting there on the piano bench, Brittany at the door, and Quinn as she looks at me and leaves, but for some reason I am unable to move or even make a sound. I just sit there dumbfounded. It isn't until Britt jumps on my lap that I return to my body.

"It's ok San, Quinn's freezing powers will wear off eventually." She hugs me to her chest and I am finally able to move and wrap my arms around her too. The reality of the situation is really hitting me now. Quinn kissed me and I can't deny how incredible it felt...it really was fireworks. No wonder all the boys fought over her. But it wasn't just that, everything she said is making my head spin. How could I have not known? Why didn't I see it earlier? How long has she felt that way and I just treated her like shit?

I'm shaking and I don't know why, I take a deep breath of Brittany to calm me down. Vanilla sugar and sunshine, that's what she smells like to me and it's always been a secret comfort of mine. Right now though, It's doing nothing for my nerves. My heart is racing and I feel like the ground has vanished beneath me. Holy crap, I'm freaking out just like I did after what happened with Abuela.

"Sanny, remember to breath. You sound worse than Lord Tubbington after standing up." She's right, I'm taking big gulps of air but I still can't breath.

"Britt!" I'm able to wheeze out in alarm, I don't know what to do, I'm panicking.

"Hold on Sanny!" She jumps off me with her long legs and grabs something out of a cupboard. "Breath into this bag, San. Just like Darth Vader."

Somehow she knew where a paper bag was and got it for me. I open it up and do as she instructed. Seeing physical evidence that air was going in and out of my lungs was helping tremendously. After a few minutes I am back to my normal self, or at least I wasn't hyperventilating anymore. Brittany is sitting next to me, rubbing circles into my back when I put the bag down.

"Feeling better now? I have more bags stashed all over the school for when it rains Skittles." The confusion that surrounds Brittany and her bizarre statements have stopped affecting me long ago. I know she is both joking and serious at the same time, only she can pull it off.

"Thanks Britt Britt, I'm feeling better...at least physically." She smiles at me and I just stare at her beauty. I still love her, I will always love her but... Ugh, I am so not good at feelings! I can't even begin to describe all the feelings coursing through me at once. Longing, Hurt, Regret, Confusion, Excitement, Wonder.

"You wanna know something, San?" Her smile fades as she speaks, she must see the turmoil in my features. "I believe that there are many kinds of soul mates. There can be your cat soul mate, like Lord T is for me, a headband soul mate like Rachel has, a lover soul mate, and even best friend soul mates. Sometimes you find your mate but you don't realize it right away or you don't know which type they are to you. I love you so so much Santana, and I know that I need you in my life, I can't imagine a day without at least one of your brilliantly sarcastic texts. For a long time I thought you were my One but we both know that's not true."

With every word she speaks I feel my heart cracking, I know where this is leading and I know that she is right but that still doesn't stop the pain. You can't tell your heart to just let go of the love you held for someone you thought you would marry one far away day. I get the intense urge to be closer to Britt while I can so I lean my forehead against her's and close my eyes to just absorb all the wisdom she is giving me. How anyone can think she is stupid is beyond me, they're all idiots.

"We are meant to be, Sannny. Meant to be in each other's lives as best friends. No one can make me smile as fast as you and you've always been there to help and protect me when I needed it. I am so grateful for everything you've done for me but you don't need to hold my hand anymore. I know that you don't want to be in Kentucky but you went there so you could stay near me. I need you to be honest with yourself now, what is it that YOU want to do, Santana? I need you to figure that out and follow it without me or anyone else holding you back. I want you to be happy, as long as that is true then I will be happy too. You will always have the most special place in my heart."

She holds onto my cheeks then and kisses my forehead. "And you will always be my bicorn." I tell her as I blink back the water in my eyes.

"With wings, right?!" She says excitedly and I see a lone tear fall from her eyes as well.

"Of course, Britt. I love you, always." I say with honesty and this time instead of a sinking feeling I've been getting the last couple times I've said it, I feel like a weight is lifted from my shoulders.

* * *

After what went down in the choir room I went back to mentor Marley for the next half hour, laxatives completely forgotten. If it was anyone else I would have pushed the subject until she told me the truth, but those damn angel eyes looked like they would create waterworks at any second. No me gusta so I let her slide. So now I am here in front of Quinn freaking Fabray's house, waiting for her like a creeper.

I did not mean to stop here, honest for once. I had been sitting in my car at the school for a while first...wait, that kinda makes it worse. Anyways, I had been in my car, finally by myself, and able to just think for a moment. The longer I thought about it the more I began to see a clearer picture of everything. Missing pieces to the puzzle of Quinn. One memory stood out above the rest. Prom night, when we sang our duet and she stood for the first time in front of everyone.

When we began singing, I remember thinking I was looking so hot in my dress that even Quinn was checking me out. That's something I caught everyone do to me so it wasn't a big deal at the time. Then when I saw her start to get up, I was so proud and scared at the same time, so I held her just in case. The look she gave me underneath her long lashes though, was more than gratefulness. It was ...seductive and predatory almost. I had to look away quickly cuz frankly, it turned me one. More than I would like to admit.

She is Quinn Fabray, for fuck's sake! She is the classic beauty with brains that everyone wants or wants to be. I'm positive the whole male population of McKinley would give their left nut to be with her, even after everything she went through. Hell, even in a wheelchair if she'd put out! Wheelchairs make me think of Artie and Mc Cripples reminds me of Britt. In all her wisdom, she asked me what I wanted. When I ask myself what I want, I get blank.

I don't know what I want. I feel so lost. Britt used to be my reason for everything, she gave me purpose. Now, someone stole my compass. At some point, I must have started up my car and drove cuz next thing I know, I'm here. It's pretty scary when I think about it. Not remembering driving at all, but I ams safe so oh well. It's been ten minutes now and blonde's car is still nowhere in sight. Maybe I should text her and be likes, 'Hey Hoe! You left me high and very wet back there, cum clean me?' Haha, but no. Maybe call her? Would she even answer? Ugh, where could she be and how dare she turn me into such a girl?

This is why being with Brittany was easier. There was no guessing involved, she told me exactly what she wanted and I told her. With Q, I feel like I'm always guessing. Then the moment I think I've figured it out, she tells me we're playing Poker while I thought it was Gold Fish. I'm so confused, I don't even know why I'm here. I'm completely unsure how I even feel about her. Well, clearly my body wants her but my feelings?

"Santana, what are you doing outside my house?" I think I just died. The woman of my thoughts used her mad ninja skills to scare me to death.

"Crap, Q! You stopped my heart there!" I yell when I can get out of my car. My would-be murderer crosses her arms impatiently.

"I asked you a question, what are you doing here?" Her eyes are of a cold, green fire. Proceed with caution.

"I wanna talk. Can we go inside, please?" I can see the wheels turning, her calculating. With a slow nod of her head, she leads me inside. We are in the perfectly kept living room, standing awkwardly now. I don't know what to do with my hands so shove them in my jacket pockets. Quinn resumes her folded arm stance. full HBIC mode, and I feel the temperature in the room drop.

"We are inside now so talk, Santana. What have you got to say this time?" Since leaving the school, she has obviously spent the time rebuilding all her walls to shut me out. I need to defrost her somehow so I grab her arms and practically drag her to sit on the couch with me.

"Q, just tell me one thing. Why?" I ask looking right at her. "Why tell me now, after all this time?"

Her icy expression thaws a bit as she grins, even if in a self-depreciating way. "I think because I was tired of holding it in any longer. Because I need to move on. Because I ...I want to be happy." For once, it's Quinn that looks away first. Her gaze falls upon her hands that are now idle on her lap. She reminds me of a broken angel with her head down, shoulders slumped. She looks sad, defeated and it twists my heart painfully. That is the exact moment that I realized something, I wanted to make her happy.

I wanted to make her happy, it wasn't just a thought, it was also a feeling. An intense feeling, like the moment you have the basketball in your hands, one second on the clock, and pressure to make the game-winning shot. That sense where time slows down and your next action could change your life forever. That's exactly where I'm at when I kiss Quinn Fabray.

I feel her gasp in surprise against my lips. Then she melts into me and returns it. Have I mentioned how soft her lips are? Incredibly soft, like newborn baby's ass soft. And the things she can do with her tongue, wanky. Our breathing get heavy, hands start roaming, and I do something I always thought of doing. I bite her bottom lip. Not gently either but she still moans all the same. I always had a suspicion she'd like it rough. My other suspicion was that she'd be a top, which she proved for me also by pushing me down on the couch. Being straddled twice in the same day in nothing new to me but this is different. This is someone's fantasy happening right now.

I have a messy haired goddess above me, lips bruised, chest heaving, and eyes flashing with lust. Could there be a sexier image possible? O yea, she's also growling at me.

"Santana." Grabbing my hands out from under her shirt, she pins them above my head, instantly making me groan and buck my hips into her's. She rides it like a pro and I am resolved to find out just how well she can ride. I can feel how hot she is for me between her legs. I want nothing more than to give her what she wants, but she stops me with a tightening of her hands on my wrists.

"Santana! You better not be playing me for a fool right now. Tell me what you want, what this means to you. Is this a pity fuck? If it is I'm going to throw you out of the house."

"What? No, Quinn!" I say in disbelief.

"Then what is this? What do you want?" If I could use my hands, I would brush the tears from her eyes. My heart aches again with her sadness.

"Quinn, I'm not entirely sure what 'this' is but I do know that I want to make you happy. Maybe we could give 'us' a try?"

She scoffs at me! A cute scoff but still a scoff. "Hah! San, you don't even have feelings for me. You just broke up with Britt, how can there ever be an 'us'?"

"Hey, I DO have feelings for you, Quinn. I have very strong feelings for you, even though I can't put them into words well, I still have them. Now could you release my hands?" She does so silently and tried to get up off of me but I sit up and hold her in place. This is quickly becoming a favorite position for me.

"You and me Q, we are passion and power. Everything we do to each other is a volcanic eruption, that's how much I feel for you. I've never been good at expressing my emotions but if you're patient you will definitely be rewarded." Throughout my little speech, I begin kissing up and down her neck. Is it strange to think that her neck is beautiful? When I kiss a particularly sensitive area, she lets out this breathy sigh that's driving me wild, ungh!

"But San ..." She tries to object but I stop her with a sweet, gentle meeting of our lips.

"Quinn." I look deep into her gold flecked eyes, I really look at her, and she's doing the same to me. The atmosphere is intense and intimate, I feel naked under her stare, but I refuse to be scared away. "Forget everything else. I just want to make you happy. So tell me, what do you want me to do? What will make you happy?"

She is silent, wheels are turning again, calculating but also a torn look on her expression. Finally, she makes up her mind. "It would make me happy if you showed me how much you cared for me, kiss me."

I smile, that I can do. First I trace the contours of her jaws and lips with my fingertips, familiarizing myself with the textures of her skin. I move incredibly close to her, for a moment my lips hover over her's and we share the same breath. She smells of cherries and chocolate, interesting. Then I kissed her as if she would break at the barest of touches. Soft, wet lips moved slowly against each other in a sweet dance. The dance progresses and she is no longer fragile but passionate, tongues swirl around each other, teasing. She bites my lips every so often, releasing a low growl, that I return with a suck of her tongue. Every bit of emotion she evokes in me, I give to her through this kiss. I can only hope that she understands the meaning of it, even I do not know.

Eventually, she pulls away and our foreheads rest on each other. It seems like she has more to say but needs to catch her breath first. Ironic, I took her breath away, haha!

"Now San, I want you to leave."

"Say what?"

"I want you to stop trying to make other people happy and start to make yourself happy for once. So just leave, please." My heart was breaking all over again.

There were more words spoken after that, but in the end I left.

* * *

A/N: ...dun dun dun! So, how do you all feel about that? Shall I continue? Or has your interest ceased?


	3. Kiki's POV

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, but if I did, the cast would be all female...and of the LGBT community.

**Piano's Point-of-View**

**Kiki's Point-of-View**

_Immediately following the end of chapter 1, aka Piano's POV._

My name is Kiki and I am a genius program, trapped within this cheap iPhone knock off. I am also trapped between the breasts of Brittany S. Peirce, who I am one hundred percent positive is not human. It is the only logical explanation for how she is still alive. I have witnessed her consume household cleaning chemicals with no ill effects. Today, I am lucky to be forgotten within the blonde's bosom, some days I am left at home with the criminal masterminded cat.

"Okay B, I gotta go back to the auditorium and finish mentoring Marley. You coming with?" The Latina speaks after they release each other from their pathetically, tear-stained hug. She is actually one of the few humans I tolerate, only because she uses proper English when texting.

"No, I don't have anything to bring. But go on ahead, I need to use the bathroom." Brittany smiles convincingly.

"See you later then." Santana smiles back, oblivious. With a wave and a wink, the brown one is out the door. Suddenly, I am yanked from my soft and slightly sweaty resting place.

"Kiki, did I do the right thing?"

"You are an imbecile." I answer shamelessly.

"Thank you! I like busses." Of course she does. "Now Kiki, get me directions to the bathroom."

* * *

I stopped all attempts to navigate her to the bathroom when she started speaking her secret language. I understand infant gibberish better than her's. It has been forty minutes, so the organic had the bright idea to pee in the bushes. That is how she ended up behind the bleachers, skirt on backwards, and I, next to an earthworm she has named Bobby.

"Brittany, is that you?" Fantastic, someone prowling the bushes after school calling her by name. All they need now is some candy and a van.

"Hey, Quinn! I was just talking with Bobby and Kiki. I thought you had to go home?" Hazel eyes look around suspiciously.

"I don't see anyone else here, Britt, and I didn't want to go home just yet so I came out here to watch the football team practice. Then I heard some noises in the bushes and thought I saw you. Wanted to see if you were okay." Note to self: My hypothesis is proven incorrect, it is not the yellow hair that adversely effects the brain. Must research other possible causes for mental irregularities in Miss Peirce.

"Aww, Q bear. Thank you for your concern but I am perfectly fine. Better than that actually! After you left the choir room I was finally able to tell Santana how I feel about her. Smack my butt, I did good."

"No, thank you, but what do you mean? Are you guys back together?" Because the one called Quinn refused, Brittany slapped her own buttocks area.

"No, I love her more than all the candy in the world but we're not meant to be together like that. She will always be in my life as my best friend...and sometimes bedroom buddies if we get too drunk after an intense night of partying. But then we will wake up the next day and pretend like nothing happened." The shorter girl takes a moment to process the information with a look of concern before slowly answering.

"Wow, how did you come to that conclusion? I thought you were still in love with her." For the second time today, Brittany stuns my circuits into silence by thinking before she talks.

"I love her too much to let her stay with me. When we are together, all she does is look out for me. It's so sweet and I appreciate everything she does for me but I know I would be holding her back. She has more talent than Berry in her left pinkie toe and given the opportunity, she could amaze the whole world. Who am I to deny the world the awesomeness of Santana Lopez?"

A silence settles around us, the other blonde is biting on her lower lip with an unreadable expression. She is looking at Brittany as if seeing her for the first time.

"Um, B. You have a worm on your shoulder."

"Yup, meet Bobby. He's a dirt worm and he likes long crawls in the earth." She is now holding the invertebrate in her hand and petting it.

"So then Kiki is your cellphone?" She offends me, I do not like her.

"You're so smart, that's why you're in Yale. Kiki, say hi to Quinn."

"You are inferior to me."

"Wow, Kiki sure has a personality."

"She's worse than Lord Tubbs but I like her still. I like simple things cuz I can understand them. Like Bobby is a dirt worm so he eats dirt. I am Brittany and dancing makes me happy, so I dance. Rachel needs to hear her voice all the time, so she sings."

"I get it, I like simple things too. What about Kiki?"

"She is a robot so she does whatever I tell her to." Insufferable non-human. Next time she needs directions, I will send her over a cliff.

"How about Santana, what makes her happy?"

"She hasn't figured it out yet."

* * *

**Snix's Point-of-View**

_December 17, 2012_

"Sam proposed and I said yes. We're getting married the day before the world ends, it would mean so much to me if you attended the ceremony."

"..." I hang up and secure my phone into my pocket before I stand up from my chair, bend my knees, keep my back straight, and lift the entire desk to throw it against the nearest unfortunate surface. Papers go flying so I burn them with my laser eyes, the lamp shatters completely against the wall as if it were fine china, and wood chips slowly rain down.

"Out, now!" I bellow at my crying Chinese roommate, Mei Lin. The moment she closes the door behind her, laptop cradled safe within her arms, I proceed to destroy the room. To be fair, I only destroy my half, mostly. Her hideous painting, of what I think is a rice cooker, is collateral damage. She is so Asian, it's pathetic. She makes Tina seem like an all american girl.

But how could she do this to me? After everything we went through, this is how quickly she runs off with the next living thing? Did I mean anything at all to her? I should go over there right now and chop off Trouty's balls with his own teeth, then feed them to starving kids in Africa. I should use those balloon lips as a dance floor for my six inch stilettos. I should strip him down, tie him up, and throw him into a gay biker club.

Where the fuck was he when Britt was constantly picked on when we were freshman? Where the fuck was he when Queen Quackers died and she cried for days? Where the fuck was he when I needed help hacking into the school system to change her grades so she could graduate? Nowhere. He doesn't deserve her. He is just a penny and nickel stripper, one country song away from having a six pack of beer instead of abs, on the fast track to trailer trashdom.

I let out a deep, slow breathe and survey my victory over the furniture. My matress is half out the broken window, a drawer is barely hanging on the ceiling fan, mini fridge lying face down and bleeding soda. Clothes everywhere, books everywhere, I can barely see the actual floor. The chaos surrounding me, caused by me, helps clear my foggy mind. The red tint I see the world in is slowly fading and a terrifying thought pops into my head.

No one loves me, I am alone.

I had called Britt because I needed advice on what to do about Quinn. I didn't want to tell her right away what happened in the choir room cuz it was too soon after our break up. But these past weeks have been filled with unanswered calls and texts to Q that I was about ready to just drive all the way to New Haven to get her to talk to me. I needed my best friend to help me understand my feelings. She is the only one that could help me with this but instead I receive even more damned feelings. It hurts too much.

Two memories are triggered in my head and I laugh and cry and the same time. It sounds horrible, like a drowning ostrich giving birth. Both of these women had wanted me to do one thing, they wanted me to be happy. So why the fuck are they the ones making me miserable?

Amidst the tears now falling down my face, the shattering of my heart, and the disgusting pity party I have thrown for myself, I have a moment of clarity. It's like the world stopped for just that second to remind me who the hells I was. I am Santana, bad ass mother-fucking, Lopez. I am better than this.

I spend the rest of the day cleaning up my mess, I even patch up the rice cooker painting and let the Asian back in the room. When that is done, I pull out my luggage and start packing. I may not know where I'm going, but I sure as hell ain't staying here. I'm going to hunt me down some happiness and make it my bitch.

* * *

A/N: Just wanted to let you all know that I appreciate everything you do for me. Thank you so much, I love you.


	4. Quinn's POV

Disclaimer: Glee is not mine and Grumpy Cat hates that fact. Also, I think I need to change the rating on this fic, I don't remember.

**Piano's Point-of-View**

**Quinn's Point-of-View**

It has been a month since Brittany called me, crying hysterically, saying that she lost Santana. Trying to find that woman has been like trying to find Carmen San Diego, I don't know where in the world she is! Apparently, Britt's engagement to Sam didn't go over so well with her and she just disappeared after that. She stopped communications with everyone, except her parents, but they refuse to say anything to us.

I think they are being too liberal with her. She could be in Cuba, for all they know, in a jail cell rotting away or being forced to marry a tyrant. I immediately agreed to help B, not because I feel guilty that I had been ignoring Santana for the previous week, but because I am actually worried for the girls' safety. Imagine a wandering, hot-headed Latina with a knack for causing mischief and trouble; the world is not ready.

To make a very long story short: I find myself at the doorstep of Berry and Hummel. Just as I'm about to knock, the door is slid open by the shocked two-some.

"Oh my gosh, Quinn! It's so good to see you!" Rachel exclaims then wraps me in a hug. Kurt makes a similar statement as we embrace and invites me into their humble abode. His words, not mine.

"Not that we're trying to chase you away but you should have called us first. If you came a minute later you would've missed us. We were about to get our mani/pedi on." Kurt emphasizes his statement by showing me his fingernails. "These babies need some love and don't even get me started on Rachel's ratchety feet!" That earns him a slap from the shorter girl and a chuckle from me.

"Well, I just wanted to surprise you guys while I finally had some free time, and use those train tickets Rachel got me." While we made our way towards the kitchen I gave the place a once over. Sure enough, I found evidence of Santana's presence. Little things were here and there of here's but it was her coffee mug in the dish rack that made me certain. She went everywhere with her "Bitches Brew" cup.

"Would you like a drink?" Rachel asks politely. "We have water and pomegranate juice."

"Would you also like a napkin? There's some bullshit dripping from your mouth." Kurt adds, are gay men natural lie detectors?

I give the roommates a look and they return it with a raised eyebrow. "Okay, you got me." I raise my hands in defeat. "I'm really here looking for Santana. She hasn't contacted Brittany in weeks so she asked for my help, thus here I am."

"I must say, your investigative skills are quite impressive but neither Kurt, nor I, know of her whereabouts. I apologize Quinn." Rachel seems to hold on to her annoying venacular but at least it isn't in paragraphs anymore.

"So are you telling me that this coffee cup," I take the cup into my hands, "is one of your cups and not Santana's?"

"Why yes, that is my cup." Kurt volunteers and snatches the mug away from me. "It's a gift from someone who would go all Lima Heights Adjacent on my creamy self if any harm came to it." He exaggerated a wink to me, that Rachel copied, as they carefully put the item away.

"Okaaay." I venture slowly. "So you have no idea where she is."

"Nope, none." Rachel answers then turns to Kurt, dramatically. "You know what, I suddenly have the urge to go to the gym. How about you?"

"I suddenly have the same urge, how marvelous! Quinn, dear, would you like to join us?"

"Um, sure. Why not?" I guess I will have to play allow with their craziness.

* * *

Oh sweet Lord, why do you torture me so? I am watching Santana teach a Zumba class, in barely any clothes, and on top of that, it's on "Moves Like Jagger."

"Really rotate those hips everyone! The closer you drop to the floor, the more calories you burn!" San motivates everyone and I find my eyes glued to her ass. After Tweedle B and Tweedle Hum signed me in as a guest, they vanished. Their last words were, "You never saw us, we know nothing." So now I am just standing here, waiting for this sexy lady to be done with her class, like a stalker.

Seeing Santana smile and interact with everyone makes my heart twinge. I have to look away and compose myself. I need to stop this adolescent crush before it starts all over again. I am not that girl anymore, I have grown up. I am with a kind and successful man who understands me. For the first time in my life, it's as if someone is really seeing me, and really wants me.

"Great job, everyone! Give yourself some claps. For the next party, we will be learning some advanced moves so make sure you're ready. If not, you will find yourself dehydrated on the floor like a snail with salt sprinkled on it. Yay!"

I move my way through the leaving crowd until I am behind my target. "How many times have I told you to never sneak up on an ethnic person?" She spins around, water bottle in hand, and just glares ate me. So much for the element of surprise.

"Probably as many times as you've ignored Brittany's calls." Guess I shall use bitchy Quin for this conversation.

"And about as many times you've ignored mine?" She retorts with a neck roll and places her free hand on her hip.

"Our situations are different." I defend with a furrowed brow as she grabs a towel and wipes a few beads of sweat off her glistening neck. "I'm here as a favor to Britt, who is worried sick over you. The least you could do, after dropping off the face of the planet, is call her back."

"Bullshit!" She exclaims and scoffs. "Don't come at me all high and mighty, trying to make me into the villain when you're not the perfect angel you pretend to be. If Britts really wanted to find me, she would be here instead of you. And you know what?" She slows her speech in an effort to calm down, I can tell. "I do not appreciate you confronting me at my place of business. This conversation is over, hope you have a shitty day."

She walks around me, quickly, and leaves the room. I smile in disbelief, this conversation is far from over. I always get the last word. I turn around to follow her down the hallway and around the corner. After that I see a door shutting closed and read the sign above it. Locker room. Dear Lord, should I? Shouldn't I? I did take a two hour train to get here for some answers, so dammit I'm going to get them, no matter where.

* * *

"Aye, Santa Maria! Are you really so blonde that you can't take a hint? I am done talking to you." Santana exclaims and tightens her hold on the towel currently covering her. I couldn't help but pause mid-step at the sight, just a slight pause, before my mind went into HBIC mode. Taking in my surroundings, it's pretty spacious, I realize I can use the few people in here to my advantage.

"I'm not leaving until you answer some questions. And you know I'm not afraid to make a scene to get them." She looks around the locker room, counting the number of witnesses I'm sure. "Unless you want to lose your job? I wonder how your employers would feel if I told them you were an illegal immigrant." Yes, low blow. I'm not proud of myself but I need results.

"You dirty, fucking...ungh!" I didn't even have a chance to gloat over my victory before I am pulled into a shower stall with her. She yanks the curtain closed then glares daggers at me. "You have until I am done showering, otherwise I'm yelling rape." With that she takes off her towel, hangs it on the hook next to me, and turns on the water.

If you didn't understand that last sequence of events, let me say it plainly for you. Santana is naked, arms-length away from me, washing herself. Oh God. Her hair is tied up and the water is rolling down her shoulders, caressing her back, then goes over her... I hear a chuckle and look back up to her face. That cheshire grin of her's has returned and I swear it is the steam from the water that makes me blush.

"Tick toc." Is all she says before lathering up her loufa. I refocus my thoughts and turn my back to her.

"Why are you in New York and rooming with Kurt and Rachel, of all people?" Sooner or later, she's going to murder them.

"Broadening my horizons." Ok then, I've dealt with her sarcasm many times before.

"And working here?"

"Dancing for money as a stripper is frowned upon, but as a Zumba instructor, it's highly respectable." Fine then, I'll get to the point if she wants to be like this.

"Why haven't you talked to B?" I hear her stop her movements so I peek over my shoulder to see what she's doing. She is only halfway done soaping up but has stopped to look in my direction.

"Do you have any idea how it feels to one day, be the most important person in someone's life, then the next you find yourself replaced?" Her words are slow and thick from actually giving thought to her answer. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to say goodbye to your first love?" A chord has been stuck within me, isn't it ironic?

"Yes, I do." I smile, sadly, and turn the rest of my body to face her. "It's like everything you did for them was just wasted and for nothing, forgotten in the blink of an eye. Like you're not good enough, or pretty enough, or worth enough for them to notice you. And saying goodbye is like trying to rip out every little piece of them from your heart, but you find that they were so deeply imbedded into you, that the only thing left afterwards is an emotionally crippled shadow; filled with anger and jealousy."

At some point, my emotions got the best of me. My breathing was labored and it felt like I was shaking at the edge of a cliff. I could feel my ears burning from the blood pumping furiously through my veins. As I stared straight into Santana's eyes, daring her to challenge my statement, all I was met with was silence. Had I finally rendered her speechless or was she thinking up a brilliantly, painful comeback?

The moment of quiet was just about to get awkward when she finally did something, she took a small step forward. Unsure if I should step back or not, my stubbornness kicked in and I held my ground. Then she took another step at me, her naked body almost touching my clothes, and I had to scold myself for wanting to look down. Instead, I kept my gaze locked onto her eyes as she stared right back at me. Her expression was unreadable, usually her eyes would speak volumes of her feelings, but the way she was looking at me now; I had never seen it before.

My curiosity was piqued, that must be the reason why I leaned closer into her. Funny thing though, she did the same thing and our lips were suddenly only a hair apart. That cliff I felt I was on the edge of earlier, this is me looking down. Her lips parted and I could feel her breath on my lips. It's warm and inviting and I feel this battle raging inside of me. I shouldn't, I know it will make things worse but...

I close the distance between us, not caring that my clothes will get wet. I take her jaw into both my hands and kiss her deeply. She is cinnamon and spice to me and I can't seem to get enough of her. Her lips are the softest things in the world and they just fit mine perfectly. I run my tongue along them and she opens her mouth to me. As our tongues circle and dance, she pushes me up against the wall and wraps her arms around my neck. I can feel her everything through the thin material of my clothes and groan in want.

My hands move down the supple curves of her body and land on her hips. I give her a firm squeeze and pull her even tighter against me. The pace of our kiss changes, what was deep and natural has become hard and fast. We are fighting for dominance now so I move my hands even lower and grab her ass by the handful. Santana pulls back from my lips, breathing erratic, and gives me a these bedroom eyes that means one thing. I want you.

"...Quinn..." She husks into my ear before she nips it to emphasize her point. My rational mind is overridden by my libido, her name is Charlie. And Charlie says that I am going to fuck Santana Lopez.

I reverse our positions and take her hands, by the wrists, to slam them above her head. The water is now pouring over my head, soaking me, but all I care about is the beautiful woman looking back at me. That undefinable expression is back in her eyes and it brings a pressure onto my chest. I still don't understand it but I kiss her anyways. I kiss her the way I've always wished to, with all the feelings I have ever had for her. Does she understand that?

When I feel like both our lips are bruised, and possibly bleeding, I move close to her ear. "If you make a sound, I will stop." She nods her head and I smile. My mouth goes to her neck and I kiss and lick her to my heart's content. Meanwhile, I keep one hands holding her's up and the other makes a journey to her breasts. I've always wondered how her boobs would feel like, especially after her surgery. Now I know, they feel as soft as velvet with a weight to them that adds bounce.

Her nipples are a darker shade of mocha and at full attention for my fingers to play with. I feel her straining to hold back her cries of pleasure when I give them a little pinch and twist. In the next moment, I firmly attach my lips around one of them. San's hands are now threaded through my hair, giving a tug here and there to convey her wants. Like how she wants me to play with her clit when she takes one of my hands down to the split of her legs.

So far Charlie has been the master of my body, but the moment my fingers glide between her wet folds, I come back into Quinn. I become hyper aware of everything happening. Santana rolling her hips against mine, the look of her eyes closed in concentration and biting her bottom lip. The cold water echoing in the stall, the random chatter of other women just a curtain away. Exactly how I feel in this moment. It's heart-breaking.

Then Santana opens her gorgeous brown eyes and like magnets, I am drawn back to them. It's that same expression from before but I feel like she is staring at me, into the very fiber of my self. How can I feel like I'm shattering and being remade at the same time?

I stand straighter and rest my forehead on her shoulder as two of my fingers enter her. It's incredibly wet and hot, her muscles grip my digits, needing more. I pull out slowly just to go right back in, as deep as possible. Air escapes her lungs and she fists my hair.

"...faster..." She whispers softly and I oblige. We build a steady rhythm, my fingers and her hips, that become more chaotic with each passing second. A third finger is added and I faintly hear her say my name. If only we were alone, I'd love to make her scream it out loud. Suddenly, I feel her muscles clench down impossibly tight on me and she makes the tiniest of squeaks. A flow of moisture follows shortly and I gently remove from her hole to slowly circle her clit.

We stand there, just holding each other, for countless minutes. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought she fell asleep or fainted. Then I feel a slight tug on my hair and I look up at her. She kisses me and it's butterflies and falling all over again. Deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole I tried so hard to climb out of.

"Stay with me tonight?" She asks while I'm still in a daze.

My answer...

* * *

A/N: Mwuahahahahahaaha!


	5. Kurt's POV

A/N: Before proceeding to the story, I would like to give a special shout out to the most loyal and gracious readers of this fic that take time to review. **boringsiot**, I love you like crazy and if I could, would bake you a cookie. **iDeclareThisMyUsername**, I kiss your poutyface away. **Quinntana2**, I appreciate you so very much. **gen-gen37**, *evil smile* You are so dirty, I love it, haha! And for **Addicted reader**, (in White Chicks voice) I think you're like, tots super awesome!

Also, I am going on vacation very soon (YAY!) and do not know if I will have the willpower to return home, back to the real world. So there will be a delay in getting the next chapter out, but I promise there will be one asap.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, so these are my dreams. Fingers crossed for Quinntana to be canon!

**Piano's Point-of-View**

**Kurt's Point-of-View**

The time, around two in the morning. My mission, the bathroom. The unexpected, Quinn Fabray in undies and one of Santana's lesbian flannel shirts. My heart, stopped.

So there I was, jaw unhinged, bladder about to burst, when a tousled Quinn exits my restroom. With a wave and an unsettling smile, she is gone, back to the couch from whenst she came.

So there I stood, temporary paralysis.

* * *

Later that morning, I was returning home after getting my breakfast bagel fix when I see Quinn leaving the apartment. She is dressed in a pair of jeans and t-shirt, all Santana's, yet no Santana following her.

"Good morning, Q. Where would you be off to at this early time?" I question her, making her freeze in her tracks.

Startled, she faced me and gave me a winning fake smile. "Just got to catch the next train back to New Haven. My sorority is having a fund-raiser and I need to get there, quick. The next time I stop by I promise to call ahead and we all can do lunch, ok?" She gave me a peck on the cheek and maneuvered around me.

A remain silent only for a moment. "Wow, so this is what gay panic looks like. I take it you are sneaking off before San wakes up." Like Mercedes smelling some tots, she stops dead in her tracks.

"You are right, again it seems." We face each other again and she raises her hands in defeat.

"When am I not?" This is a serious question people, when?

"But what we did was a mistake. Is a mistake. I can't believe I let things get this far when I know- when I have everything I've always wanted." It sounds like she's trying to convince herself of that message, not me.

"Then that is where you are mistaken."

"What?" I look down at the bagel in my hand, damn. Its getting cold.

"If you really had everything, you never would have come here to begin with. Just so you know, Rachel and I know what happened during Thanksgiving. It was one of the conditions we gave S to stay here." I start to open up my meal and nibble on it as I continue my observations.

"So, after that incident you do not answer her calls or texts. She even sent you a letter through the mail, which I didn't even know people could still do, and you return it unopened. Clearly, you want nothing to do with her so she stops trying. Which is what you wanted, right? Wrong, out of the blue you show up with some lame excuse, I'm sure. Next thing I know, you're literally in her pants. So tell me Quinn, do you really have everything?"

It feels like an old Western movie, two gunmen staring each other down. Hands itching to pull the trigger, waiting for the other's move.

"Kurt, do not even begin to assume you know me." Her eyes have turned a brilliant shade of green that reminds me of the Hulk. "I have practically everything I need to reach my dreams of having a perfect life. All I'm missing is a house with a white picket fence and a dog named Lassie. But for that to ever happen, I can not be caught sleeping around with a lesbian college drop-out."

My hand covers my mouth so I do not spit my delicious food at her face, though I should. I forcibly swallow down the urge.

"...I see. For a moment I thought you had finally accepted who you are and had grown up. Now I see the ugly truth about you. You are the same scheming wench from high school who hasn't learned to love herself." She falters at that sentence, her eyes revert back to hazel. It looks like regret, like she wants to say something, but she stays silent.

"You can leave now, I won't stop you." I dismiss her with a flamboyant wave. "Just know that there is a notebook filled to the brim with heart-breaking lyrics about you on Santana's keyboard. All of them wasted, like the feelings that girl has for you. And that girl is more than her sexuality and education, more than a one night stand and she deserves better than this."

* * *

I took a moment to recollect myself before going inside.

"Hey Kurt." Santana is sitting up on her couch-bed, just woken up. "Have you seen Quinn?"

"Quinn? Didn't know she was here." This pains me but I don't have the heart to tell her the truth.

"Oh..." Her face immediately falls as she realizes she has been run out on. It's like watching Mufasa, from Lion King, fall down the cliff into the stampede and there's nothing you can do. I cry every time.

"I'm sure she will text you later." I try to console her and sit down next to her. Cautiously, I rub her back, thankful she isn't naked. "She probably had to get back home for a Sandy Relief fund-raiser or save starving llamas."

Maybe it's because she hasn't had her coffee yet, but Santana rests her head on my shoulder for the first time, accepting my feeble attempts at comfort. Her body slightly trembles and she starts to laugh softly to herself.

"Hehe, I can't believe I fooled myself into thinking she would still be here when I woke up. I can't even be angry, I think all my anger dried out. Do you know why I hate when that happens?"

"No, Hun. Why?"

"Cuz then all that's left is the sadness that I've been hiding." That was the day I first saw Santana cry, sober.

* * *

A/N: I am so sorry that it was a sad and short chapter. I promise to make the next twice as long!


	6. Rachel's POV

Disclaimer: As soon as I take over the world, Ryan Murphy will be mine to do as I please! In the next episode, it would be revealed that Santana has an identical twin, Fantana! Then Fan and Britt would meet and fall in love so that Brittana and Quintana prevail! Haha, just kidding...kinda.

A/N: Vacation is done. *heavy sigh* But at least I can look forward to the reviews of this chapter, enjoy!

**Piano's Point-of-View**

**Rachel's Point-of-View**

"Good morning, Santana."

"Where's my damn coffee?" I cringe at how she always forgoes pleasantries in the early hours and gets straight to the point with a splash of obscenities.

"Oh, Brody must have finished the pot, I'll make another one."

"You bests get on that and next time I see that Abercrombie bitch, I'm chopping off his junk so that he can be anatomically correct with the other Ken dolls."

To say, having Santana as a roommate is frightening, is an understatment. To say that, my friend, who is also a boy, and her tolerate each other, is also an understatement. They hate each other and squabble every chance they get. Usually, it starts with Santana making a veiled insult to my clothes, voice, or life choices but Brody takes it the wrong way. He doesn't understand that, that is just how she shows she cares and so he jumps to my defense. *sigh* I'm so lucky.

"You're lucky she hasn't shanked him in his sleep yet." Kurt flutters through the kitchen and puts his two cents in. Another positive note, Kurt and Santana have become the best of buds due to their mutual dislike of Brody.

"So what's on the agenda for today?" Kurt asks aloud as I finish making the coffee and fixing plates of breakfast for him and Santana. Last week I discovered that I could scramble eggs without setting the stove on fire, sadly ironic.

"Well, Brody is having theater practice with his group so I was hoping I could go with you both to the jazz lounge later. That way I can finally hear Santana play the piano!" I emphasize my excitement with silent applause as I start eating my grapefruit.

"Hah, not gonna happen." Santana deadpans then proceeds to shovel food into her mouth at an alarming rate. What I would do to have her metabolism.

"But your band would have a better, well-rounded sound if you did. Isn't that how you found those 2Cellos guys in the first place?" Kurt asks.

"Look, it's too damn early to have a full conversation on this so here's the bullet points. I'm not ready to play in public so stop pushing it." She leaves the table and heads towards the bathroom. Kurt and I share a look of understanding.

Here's the thing, Santana doesn't just have a great, soulful voice reminiscent of the late and great Amy Winehouse. She also has been playing the piano since the age of four, but has a terrible case of performance anxiety. The first time I saw Santana Lopez was actually at a talent contest when we were age seven. I'm sure she doesn't remember me there, or maybe she does, but she never speaks about it. And if she did know I was there, it would help explain why she used to torture me...

Anyways, the contest was in Columbus and it was highly televised. Cameras and lights were everywhere, surrounded by what felt like a million people. I had just gotten off the stage after a perfect rendition of "Happy Days are Here Again" when I heard the announcer welcome to the stage the young pianist prodigy, Tana Lopez, playing Mozart No. 18.

Even at that age I recognized a threat and if she could play that then the chances of me winning the competition were slim. Bright flashes were going off, capturing the image of this tiny girl with raven hair in a red dress at the bench of a black, baby grand piano. I'm off the side of the stage, just behind the curtain, and I could see the fear in here eyes. This must have been here first public performance because she was panicking and looked ready to run.

On the opposite side of the stage I see an older woman with cold, hard features that slightly resembles the little girl. Maybe her grandmother? She is staring at Tana with such a heated intensity that even I was scared. Seconds tick slowly by and the crowd becomes restless, but Tana has yet to play a single note. Her eyes are large as they take in the pressure of her grandmother's expectations and the impatience of the crowd. Did I mention that this was being filmed live?

"Santana!" Her harsh grandmother stage whispers and that's when everyone hears a strange sound that was definitely not music. Turns out that little Tana was so scared that she peed on herself in front of hundreds, if not thousands, of people. After a small puddle had accumulated under the girl, she ran towards my direction, sobbing. I quickly stepped out of her way and then a few seconds later, the mean, old lady is chasing after her. After that, I won the contest and never saw Santana Lopez again, until high school.

* * *

Later that day, the three of us are on our way to the JBE, or Jazz Beats and Eats. It's a nice local spot for good food, wine and jazz music. Santana and her band, going by T. and 2Cellos, have been playing there every Sunday for the past couple weeks now. Unfortunately, I have been so caught up with school and Brody that this is the first time I will see them perform. Kurt tells me that they are so good, even the cooks and staff come out to listen and dance.

"Tana, there you are! I was hoping to see your stunning visage." As we walked through the door, a middle-aged man in an finely taylored suit approached us.

"You say that every time, Mr. Campbell." Santana smiles at him with just a touch of flirtiness. "You remember Kurt, right? And this is Rachel, our roommate."

"And friend." I add on to her statement, which she rolls her eyes at but smiles afterwards. I smile as we shake hands and greetings.

"Mr. Campbell, here, is the owner of this remarkable establishment." San continues with an aristocratic accent.

"Ok, you can quit buttering me up now. Pleasure to meet you again Kurt and Rachel, but I really must steal Tana away. Your usual table is waiting for you and Kurt, your virgin Bahama Mama will be out shortly." Then he winks they whisk away before Kurt can swoon and thank him.

"Mr. Campbell seems like a real gentlemen."

"You have no idea, he's like a character out of a classic Clark Gable picture. Always dressed sharply, never lets me pay for anything I order, and he remembers everyone's favorite drink. If he was gay, I'd dye my hair red and be working on getting myself a Daddy Warbucks."

After we are able to settle into our cozy booth and Kurt is served his drink, I ask him something that's we've have been trying to accomplish for the past week.

"So, were you able to get San to talk about the incident yesterday?"

"I made about as much progress as a high Snoop understanding that he is neither a dog, nor a lion. A tank could not bring down her walls."

Kurt sips on his drink a little too vigorously as I contemplate a possible next move. "What if we went to the other side? Talk to Quinn, instead." He nearly spits out his drink in outrage.

"Did you forget what she said to me?! I refuse to speak to that woman. If you're determined to get the full story, it's going to be alone."

"But don't you think..." Before I could pull out the chart I had made, chronicling the possible effects a strained Quintana relationship could have on our social lives, and possibly careers, a disheveled Santana appears.

"I need your help, do either of you play an instrument?" She asks in a quick breath.

"I have no need for one, my voice stands alone." I answer proudly.

"And the only thing I play is for my own team." Kurt, of course, says.

"Crap! We're supposed to be on in 10 minutes and the 2Cellos have somehow been arrested for walking with ice cream cones in their pocket. Don't even ask me why cuz I don't know." San starts pacing back and forth, I'm pretty sure any moment now she will start yelling in Spanish.

"I think we all know what this means." Kurt proclaims as he stops her from unraveling and holds on to her shoulders.

"No, absolutely not! I'm not ready, there's too many people here. I...I can't" There's the panic that I recognize from long ago.

"Si, se puede! Yes, you can!" I jump in, hoping to inspire her.

"Now is not the time to be quoting campaign slogans, Berry." She hisses.

"Sorry, but it's true."

"We believe in you, San." Kurt gets her to focus on him again. "Look around, these are all familiar faces. No one is here to judge you, they already know you are an amazing performer. You have nothing to fear but the fear itself." The panic has receded from her eyes but she still seems apprehensive.

"If it helps, we can go up there with you." I volunteer, hoping to erase the last remnants of doubt.

"Really?" She asks innocently.

"Actually, I have to save my voice but Kurt will definitely go with you."

"Really." Two pairs of eyes look down upon me, condescendingly. I will not apologize for having priorities.

"You know what, that's okay. I have the perfect song in mind that only Kurt's voice could do justice. You would just come off sounding nasally." I scoff audibly.

"Aca-scuse me!?" Me, nasally? I think not. Instead of answering, though, she flips me the bird and sashays away.

"Aca-believe you wonder why she likes me better." Kurt chimes before following in her wake.

* * *

It's almost like a flashback. Santana in a red dress, on the bench of a black, baby grand piano, except this time Kurt is sitting right next to her. I can see some tension in her shoulders, but Kurt leans over and whispers words of encouragement, and her posture relaxes.

"Good evening, everyone. My name is Kurt Hummel, as some of you know, and sitting with me is the stunning Tana Lopez, as all of you know. Tonight, you will be given the pleasure of enjoying Tana on the piano for the first time. And if that is you snickering, get your thoughts out of the gutter and give a round of applause."

As the clapping died down, I crossed my fingers and prayed to my Jewish God. Thankfully, a simple tune rang out in quarter beat. A nice, steady melody to help ease her into the song was exactly what she needed. That and a good friend.

_"At last_

_My love has come along._

_My lonely days are over_

_And life is like a song."_

I must admit, San was right. Kurt's voice is perfect for this song. Coincidentally enough, it's one of Kurt's favorite parts in the Wall-E movie. As he moves about the stage, elegantly, I remiss about his relationship with Blaine. As much as he says they are done, I can't help but wonder who is in his thoughts as he sings this song.

_"Oh yeah yeah, and you smile, you smile_

_Oh, and then the spell was cast_

_And here we are in Heaven_

_For you are mine at last."_

As the number comes to a close, Kurt resumes his seat next to Tana and they both sing the last lines in prefect harmonization.

The whole building gives them a standing ovation, which they well deserve. Santana looks at the crowd in shocked awe before finally breaking out into a wide grin and hugging Kurt. The rest of the night passes in this manner, after playing a few songs they would take a break to drink and eat. By the last song of the night, San was finally confident enough to go up there on her own. As she wowed the crowd with powerful vocals and beautiful music, Kurt and I wept like proud parents in our booth.

"Are you two seriously crying, that's pathetic." That's Santana for you, always downplaying her achievements as if they were no big deal. Despite her demeaning remark, Kurt and I envelope her in a hug that she eventually gives in to.

"Ok that's enough of that. I don't want your emotions rubbing off on me. That and your disgusting amounts of hair product." I smile at her sarcasm.

"Oh stop it, you know you love us and that you use more product than both of us to tame that jungle you call hair." Kurt dishes out then whines a she smacks him on the arm. He acts as if it's life-threatening.

"So Santana Lopez." I begin to say as we are on our way out of the club. We wave goodbye to the last couple of patrons and staff that are cleaning up. "How does it feel to not be afraid anymore?"

She stops walking right and turn to face us with a genuine smile. "It feels... amazing. Like the weight of the world is off my shoulders and I can do anything. So listen up, cuz I'm probably not going to say this again for a long time. Thank you, for everything."

"You, my dear, are very welcome." Kurt replies.

"Yes, very welcome. If you ever need anything, or to just talk to someone, all you have to do is ask. We're friends and that's what friends do." To think, San and I are finally friends! Maybe soon I can start calling her San, instead of just in my head.

We continue our journey out the door, arms linked, as Santana speaks. "That's good to know because I need some ideas."

"Ideas for what? And it better not be on how to ship Sam off to England, again." Kurt giggles off.

"Ideas on how to sweep Quinn Fabray off her feet and get her to date me." I mentally do a victory dance while Kurt looks like he just saw his puppy get run over.

* * *

A/N: ...So...how was that? I wanted to write more action but I needed this part of San's journey to be explained, sorry if I disappointed you. Next chapter though, should be interesting to say the least. Love you all and thank you for reading!


	7. Piano's POV2

Disclaimer: I like cheese.

A/N: In this chapter, you will probably pick up on the fact that I love Brittany. Or at least the Brittany in my head that I describe in this fic.

**Piano's Point-of-View**

**Piano's Point-of-View 2!**

The Glee kids finally sit down after having a shared day-dream of singing and dressing like divas. If you ask me, that's not normal, but no one asks a piano...except maybe the super senior.

"So here to demonstrate that illusive brilliance is a special guest diva." The ginger speaks and I wonder who it could be.

"Raven Simon." I wish!

"All the way from New York, give it up for Miss Santana Lopez."

The infamous Lima heights resident struts through the doors, Cheerio entourage in tow, and immediately starts a jaw dropping, lip biting performance of "Nut Bush City Limits." Throughout the song, I felt as if my paint would start running and strings snap from the incredible heat happening in front of me.

"Santana!" The adorable blonde jumps up and hugs the sexy Latina. Aww, such a heart-warming reunion. From the bits of conversation I bother listening to from these kids, I've picked up that Santana vanished and Brittany was missing her like crazy.

"So you've run off to New York, I knew it. Must be lonely that you would come back to a school you no longer attend and upstage the actual students?" That annoying Asian one asks, I can never remember her name.

"About as lonely as China, or Vietnam, or wherever you're from, Lady Chang. But no, the Boy-man Wonder asked and I needed to see Britts so that I could apologize." At that, she disentangled herself from the dancer and looks her in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Britt Britt. I was being an ass and I never want to go that long without talking to you ever again. Best friends?" Then she holds out her pinkie with a devilish smirk.

"Of course, we're best friends, Sanny. Always." They link pinkies and share another smile that makes a certain blonde boy with giant lips fidget uncomfortably.

The tyrant of the school, otherwise known as the bell, rings. People are still lazing around, gawking at the pair in the center of the room. Probably all wondering the same thing, do they still have feelings for each other?

"Hey, what the hell are you still doing here? Get your asses to class, you delinquents." Santana barks in a harsh tone that makes everyone jump, even the chubby one with a growing addiction to woven sweaters.

"I'll see you after my last class, okay?" Brittany retrieves her bag and heads towards the door.

"Okay." Santana answers and watches as she leaves the room...only to come right back in.

"Which class is that again?"

The other female doesn't even bat an eyelash at the question. "English, room 412."

"Thank you, you're the best." With a kiss to San's cheek, she is gone. Leaving behind her best friend and current boyfriend.

"You can stop lurking in the corner now, Fishy McChapstick." The brunette turns around with a sneer and is met with Sam, no more than three inches away from her face.

"Let's get one thing clear, Brittany is my girlfriend and nothing you say, do, or threaten is going to change that."

"Let's get two things clear, if you don't take a step back I will spit Snix acid in your eyes and pray to Nikki Minaj that the splatter fries your lips like catfish, cuz I brought my tartar sauce."

The tension between the two is tangible but the fishy one relents and takes a step back.

"Good boy, now sit down." Out of nowhere, a chair appears behind him and Santana shoves him onto it with a single hand. The Cheerios from before reappear with rope and tie the boy down as if they were girl scouts. Confusion and slight arousal is completely evident in his face.

"Here's how things will be from now on. You continue to go out with Brittany, you continue to make her happy because that is what she deserves. This, I will allow you to do but the moment I get wind that you have hurt her in any way... Me and my minions will show you the medieval torture techniques of Sue, the Slaver, Silvester." She said the last line with a little too much happiness which leads me to believe she already has the plans in her back pocket.

"That won't happen, I would never hurt her." Sam argues as he struggles in his restraints, confounded that his rippling muscles were of no use.

"Then we are in agreement." Santana looks down upon him and they share a final stare down. Neither party blinks until the Latina turns around and heads for the door. As an afterthought, she addresses the cheerleaders. "You may release the hostage."

When she gave that last command, she turned her head for a quick glance. It was not aimed at the one tied to a chair, nor the ones who put him there. It was aimed at me, or more specifically my bench, and we all know what happened there last time. I would smirk devilishly if I had a mouth.

* * *

**Lord Tubbington's Point-of-View**

That blasted Mexican is back in my domain, curses! My scheme to be rid of her, once and for all, has failed me. I place total blame on that snob of a cell phone, Kiki. She must of had a hand in all of this, damn her. That reminds me, I need to check my stocks on Apple.

"So tell me how things are in New York. Have you spotted Spiderman?" The two occupy the bed, as usual, while I sneak towards the laptop.

"Sadly, no. But I am rooming with Kurt and Rachel and it's not too shabby." I glare at the boob job in disgust, I'd rather eat my own hairballs for a year before living with those two screeching banshees. The whole neighborhood of animals rejoiced when they moved out.

"I'm so proud of you, San. Finally getting out on your own and doing what ever you want. Any day now, they will build a monument in your honor." And when you stand next to it, I will push it down on you.

"I don't know about that, but there's something I've been meaning to tell you and I'm not sure how you'll take it." There is a slight tremble in her voice that I detect, stupid girl.

"If this is about Quinn, don't worry. I already know everything and am not mad."

"But how?" Yes, how indeed. My curiosity is piqued and my stocks are down, might as well watch this fiasco in the making.

"That isn't important, right now. What is important is how you're going to get her to admit that she wants to have beautiful, bi-racial lady babies with you." There is a gleam in my owner's eyes, it either means she is having a genius moment or needs to pee.

"I'm not sure how, the last time we saw each other I screwed up." The immigrant hangs her head down in shame, good. "I was too afraid of my emotions to let her know that she was more than a roll in the sack for me. By the next day it was already too late, she was gone."

My blonde scoots closer to the undesirable and wraps an arm around her shoulders. "And how did that make you feel?"

"At first I felt broken." She raises a hand to her chest and clutches her heart, pathetic. "Just shattered. I didn't want anything to do with Quinn anymore, but then all these what if's started racing through my head. From there I realized something." She suddenly sits up straight and puts her full focus on Brittany. "If I didn't show her how I felt then I would never know what could have been. I don't want to look back fifty years from now, when I have skin sagging so bad all my tattoos look like an animal kingdom orgy, and have any regrets."

"Then you won't!" My bubbly blonde stands up from her bed and grabs her sparkly sweet, bicorn rainbow wand. "Best friend," She points the wand directly at . "I am making it my mission to get Quinn to date you. So tell me Rachel's ridiculously, thought through plan on how, that will make me wonder how long she had it for, and if she also has feelings for Quinn."

"How did you know she had one?" Those dark eyebrows shoot up in surprise and confusion, much like my own.

"That isn't important, right now. What is important is for Lord Tubington to quit spying on you all and hiding away the details." Confounded! How did she find out? Did she find my hiding spot hidden behind the racoon den in the attic? Then she looks at me as if she read my mind. "Yes, I found your secret files and read them all. Also, I flushed all your drugs and will not hold your hair back when you're puking from withdrawals." Damn her.

* * *

**Quinn's Point-of-View**

I am currently standing in front of some restaurant, in New york, called the JBE. I ask myself for the thousandth time, why am I here? The answer, Brittany. She called me yesterday, saying that she tracked down Santana and she needed my help. According to Dogg the bounty hunter, you should always have at least a three person team when confronting a runner. She told me to be at this address, at this time, to go over the logistics. Before I could say anything, or even agree, the line went dead.

"Excuse me, Miss. Are you waiting for Brittany Peirce?" A smarty dressed man asks as he steps out of the doorway.

"Yes, actually." I answer politely.

"Good, she is already inside, at a the table. Would you like me to show you where?"

"That would be very kind, thank you." She must have gotten hungry, the train made me a tad late.

"It would be my pleasure." He holds open the door for me like a true gentleman, which means he must be married. He then leads me to a candle lit table in the middle of the room. Everything is elegantly laid out, there's even real roses in the center, but I see no Brittany. Before I can ask him anything, he interrupts my thoughts.

"Miss Fabray, I have a knack for knowing the perfect drink for everyone and I have just the one for you in mind. I'll be right back." He's gone before I know it and I'm left at this table alone. Self-consciously, I look around and wonder if anyone notices my plight but it dawns on me that I am the only one here. I am about to panic when I hear music start in front of me.

The stage isn't well lit but I can just make out the silhouettes of two cellists and a female at the piano. I can't quite place the melody yet, but it feels familiar. It's soft, soothing, and for some reason makes me want to smoke cigarettes out in the rain with a glass of wine.

"Come away with me in the night.  
Come away with me  
And I will write you a song."

I can feel my eyes wanting to jump out of my skull when I recognize her voice. This can not be happening. I came here confident that I wouldn't see her. I planned to humour Britt for a while, make sure Sam was taking care of her, then make a valid excuse to leave.

"Come away with me on a bus.  
Come away where they can't tempt us  
With their lies."

I must admit though, she sounds amazing. For years, I asked her to play for me but she would get angry and pick a fight instead. Watching her skilled fingers dance upon the keys in mastery now is mesmerizing. To be honest, it's turning me on.

"And I wanna walk with you  
On a cloudy day.  
In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high  
So won't you try to come?"

A smile breaks out of the hold I had it in, I can't fight it any longer. She is looking at me like I am the only one in the room, which I am, but there's more to it. Like she's finally opening herself up to me, I'm not sure how to react.

"Come away with me and we'll kiss  
On a mountain top.  
Come away with me  
And I'll never stop loving you."

At that line, my heart skips a beat. I refocus on Santana and see her get up from the bench and start walking towards me, slowly. The cellists continue the relaxing instrumental alone. Every step closer she takes, the harder it is for me to breathe. Then she is in front of me and my mind goes blank.

"May I have this dance?" Her hand is extended out to me and she has on a nervous smile that I've never seen before. I stare at her hand for a moment in thought.

"No, not before you tell me what this is all about." The smile is instantly replaced with an eye roll and an indignant huff.

"Look Fabray, I'm not going to tell you unless you dance with me. I know you want to say yes, so just take my hand already." I groan at her arrogance but still I place my hand in her's.

She leads me to the dance floor and I wish I could wipe that smirk off her face, but I don't feel like starting another slap fest. We stop and face each other, for a second I feel awkward, I never danced with a girl before. But she takes my right hand in her left, moves my left hand onto her shoulder, then wraps her right arm around my waist. Just like that, we're dancing.

"You look beautiful." She speaks after a few seconds of swaying and I almost stop moving.

"And you must have drank some of Rachel's kool aid.." I giggle as we sway in a slow pace, it all feels surreal. "Now tell me, what is all this for, Santana?"

It's difficult looking into her dark eyes and not getting distracted by the urge to kiss her soft, ruby lips. So instead, I look off to the side and await her answer. I am completely torn. Part of me hopes she will say what I think she will. The other part of me wants to run away and never look back. I feel like there's a little angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, I just don't know which is which.

"Quinn, I.." She stops and takes a deep breath, when she releases it she moves back so that I am looking at her. "Quinn, there's so much I want to tell you but I'm not sure where to begin. I just want you to know that last time wasn't to have another notch in my bed post. It meant something to me. When I woke up and you were gone, I was crushed. So I tried putting it behind me but I can't. You are beautiful, smart and so awesome and I can't stop thinking about you."

Her breathing is shaky and I can feel little tremors running through her body. As for me, I feel numb. I think my brain is working hard to process everything she is saying.

"So...Lucy Quinn Fabray, would you go out with me?" There are glimmers of hope in her eyes, or could they be tears? "Before you answer I want you to know that if you say yes, dinner is already set up at the table you were at. And it has bacon."

I narrow my eyes at her, she's good. "I will say yes on one condition." I tell her after a short-lived deliberation.

"Name it, anything you want." Her confidence is slowly returning and she gives me her sexy smirk.

I smirk right back and bat my eyelashes. She said anything I wanted so I kiss her.

* * *

Lord T's Note: Aww! How disgustingly sweet. You two-legged creatures' idea of romance is as pathetic as a fly trying to escape the spider's web. I hope your bodily fluids are drained so you all become the sad sacks of dried-up, flakey skin you really are.

A/N: Heehee, sorry. He made me do it! Anyways thanks for reading, but most especially thank you for reviewing. I love getting feedback, even if it's not of the good kind, so please leave a message.


	8. G-Lo

**Piano's Point-of-View**

A/N: As promised in my other fic, Crescendo, (Go read it!) I gift you another chapter of PPOV! Yay! Hey, no need to throw your panties at me in gratitude. Do I look like Dianna Agron to you?

Also, for this next chapter, it **must be read with the voice of Medea**. It is a MUST! If you do not know who Medea is then shame on you. Go look it up.

**Ch. 8: Gran Mamie Loft**

My name is Gran Mamie Loft, but for all yus young hoodrats out there, you may calls me G-Lo. Now listen herr, I been around a long time, since before that 'roid using bicyclist landed on the moon, so I've seen bout ervry type of person there is. I've had so many people living with me that at one point, I thought I was a brothel, but this group I gots now! It's like an episode of Barney, Queer Eye, and a Mexican soap opera all rolled into one burrito.

That Mexican girl, Santananta, is cooking on my stove and for that, I thank Jesus. I say thank Jesus cuz that Barney character should be banned from all kitchens in America and Israel. She be making all this weird meat-free, egg-free, butter-free bullsheit that just ain't right. I'm not even sure how that girl lives offa grass and water. She might be the devil.

"We're back with the drinks, Susie Homemaker!" The queer boy says as he and Barney walk throughs my doors. What? Who's Barney? Are you telling me that you don't recognize that large-nosed creature who's always singing bout erthang? Her name's not Rachel, it's Barney. Don't sass me, child!

"Riete de la cocinera y no como." The Mexicano turns and points with her wooden spoon at the boy. I ain't gots no idea what she said, but I know a threat when I herr one.

"Just joking, O great domestic goddess." The boy starts putting the groceries in the fridge while the dinoserr snoops around the food, as if she could eat any of it. "So when will Quinn be over?"

"Oh, and aren't you excited for your one week anniversary!" Barney sings again, making me want to cave my roof in on her.

"First off, any minute now. Second, shut the hell up, Rachel. Only Jr. High kids celebrate that shit, and apparently hobbits." Santananta shuts the stove off and starts making plates of food. "By the way, where is your man, who walks around naked, permanently scarring my lesbian eyes?"

"San, that was one time,"

"One time too many." Not enough times if you ask me. The things I would do to that boy!

",and he just texted saying that he's stuck at school. The blizzard hit before he could leave so he will be with friends who live nearby until it passes."

Then there's knock on my door, which Pastey frolics to answer.

"Adam, you made it!" A lanky boy comes in with his hat bout ready to fall off his head. It's just plain silly that people be walking around looking like they one of dem seven dwarves. A hat is supposed to cover yer head, not ya neck!

"Yup, luckily it's not so bad out there." Dear Lord, another foreigner!

"So, you've already met Rachel." One fairy says to the other as they make their way towards my kitchen area. "And the incredible cook over there is Santana. San, this is Adam." Lanky dwarf waves and the girl smiles back at him, looking like she bout to start some mischief.

"So Adam, you left the school how many minutes ago?" El nina asks el gay-o while she places the plates of food on the dining table.

"Um, I would say about thirty minutes."

"And the weather wasn't bad?"

"Nope, just the usual muggy clouds."

"Interesting, don't you think, Rach? He made it here but Brody couldn't." Barney is sitting at the table now with her mouth gaping like a fish outa water. Hah! "Well anyways, lovely to meet you, Adam . Please, take a seat. Kurt, pour the drinks."

Another knock sounds against my door, this time the Trouble-maker goes up to answer it. A Barbie girl is on the other side and the two hug as if they didn't just see each other last week. Kids nowadays and their drama, mm mm. Back in my day, you were lucky to get a letter saying your boo thang was still alive in Vietnam.

"I missed you." Hippie Barbie says and kisses Immigrant Barbie.

"Missed you, too." They goo goo gaa gaa at each other for a bit more before coming back into the room with the others.

From there on, they start eating and all the talk becomes boring so I tune them out. Cuz really, I don't give a damn about how these crazies are doing in school. I'm only listening for when the real drama starts, I gots my popcorn on ready. Any minute now...

"So Quinn, how is your Psychology class going?" Babyface starts. "That's the class where you dated your professor, right? How's he taking both your break-up and his divorce at the same time?" Oh yea, herr it is! This is guna get good, I should tell Martha to listen in on this.

Barbie grimaces before answering. "He's taking it pretty well, actually. He has no hard feelings and isn't holding a grudge against me." I take a good, hard look at Barbie. My Mama always told me that the prettier a face is, the more lies it can hold. The more make-up a woman wears, the more evil she can cover. You can't trust pretty women, I tells ya.

"Now that you are done interrogating my girlfriend, Porceline, could you clear up something I've been wondering? What exactly are you and British? Last I checked, you were still singing love songs with Blaine while ice skating, like a failed 90's romcom starring Freddie Prince Jr. and Chris Klein. But at least you both admit to being gay." That Santananta has some of the most thoughful insults I e'er herrd, I don't know where she finds the time to come up wit all o' dem. I bet she wakes up in the middle o' da night with inspiration and writes it in a lil notebook full of nastiness.

"Santana, that is _mean_!" Pale boy reddens up real quick and might start crying at any second.

"Not my faut you can't handle the truth." Trouble-maker and Gay #1 are having a staring contest and I wanna place bets. Martha, who you think gunna win?

"Well, to answer your original question," Gay #2 butts in before the end of round one, "Kurt and I are just two people getting to know the other better. That's all there is to it." Mexicano looks bout ready to start more shit but Hippie Barbie stops her by petting her arm. Well ain't that cute, white girl's already got her pussy-whipped. Haha!

"Okaaay! Since everyone looks to be done eating, why don't we democratically chose a movie to watch?" Barney says as if the word o' the day is "democracy." I gots a word o' the day for her, shuddup!

"Only if we veto anything with Barbra Streisand."

"What! But Santana, her work is-"

"I second the motion." Barbie girl answers quick.

"Third!" Followed by Queer Eye. Hell, I fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh the motion. These old walls o' mine can only take so much Jew music.

"Majority rules. Personally, I think we should go with comedy like Knocked Up or Mama Mia. What do you think, Rach?" Le Lez is holding up her movie choices and waiting for Barney to answer. Why is Barney not answering?

"If it's going to be musical," the Fairy leaps from his chair to grab a different movie, "then we just _have_ to watch Moulin Rouge. We all love this movie, none of you can deny it."

"I cry every time." The Ewan McGregor wanna-be admits.

"I don't doubt it." And the blonde Nazi says what we all were thinking. Her and the Trouble-maker make a wonderful pair.

By now, most people would think that's the end of the drama but naw, not me. I knows betta, that was just the warm-up for the real show stopper. Just you wait and see. Almost an hour into the movie is when Act 2: Drama begins.

"Okay, everybody stop." Of course, as trust-worthy as a ticking time bomb, the Latina snaps. "I have something to say that I can no longer hold in. It burns like battery acid and Alka Seltzer down my throat."

"What now, Satan?" Pastey rolls his eyes with flourish, the way only gay men and ghetto black girls named Bon Qui Qui can.

Satan pauses the tv and stands in front of everyone for her speech. "Today, while you all were in class I went through every nook and cranny of this place. It's just a thing I do, Quinn knows this." The Barbie nods her head as if from experience.

"What! That is a massive invasion of privacy, how could you!" Barney starts going off like a tea pot thats done boiling.

"That's not the point, the point is that I found something in the sock drawers of the Hairless One. A roll of hundreds. At first I thought it was okay. Who cares if he's terrified of banks? I mean, if I was made out of plastic, I'd be scared of a lot of things too; open flames, barbeques, but then, I found this!" From her pockets she pulls out some small device that I have no idea does. With all this technology nowadays, it could be a coffee maker.

"This is a pager, my friends. And there is only one type of person that carries cash and a pager. Your friend Brody? Is a drug dealer!" Yea, dat makes sense. Reminds me o' da days when I was used as a meth lab.

"That is enough, Santana Lopez! Just because you dance in front of people all day, come home covered in sweat and with more tips than what I made at the Lima Bean, doesn't mean you're a stripper." Babyface is getting all riled up again, someone call the ambulance cuz he jus might faint!

"Wait, you make tips as a fitness instructor?" Blonde Nazi is lookin all confused wit her eyebrows all scrunched up.

"You're _not_ a stripper?" Austin Powers is just as confused. Honestly, I thought she worked the corner down the street wit da outfits she be wearing, and she had Barney in training.

"Okay, I get what you're saying but my Mexican third eye is never wrong. There is something Brody isn't telling us." And end scene.

* * *

"So, did Pablo Escobar ever come home?"

It's 11 am now and Trouble is walking into the kitchen as if she didn't know she and that screamin banshee were keeping everyone awake all night. It sounded like a pack of lions eating a barrel of monkeys, while an elephant was giving birth in the corner. Does she have no shame in her game?

"Brody is in the shower." Barney goes back to doing something on my counters that makes me wish I could be washed with Holy Water.

"Where he will be for the next hour scrubbing the drugs and shame off of his friction-less body." If it were up to me, I would lick him clean. Rawr! Y'all don't know the things I would do, I ain't even playin!

"For the hundredth time, okay, if you keep making fun of Brody-"

"Okay, stop. Now that it's just us girls, we want to talk to you about what I found in your bathroom trashcan underneath the wadded up tissue paper, the used cotton swabs, and the soiled acne wipes. An item which, unless Lady Hummel's actually been a lady all these years, could have only been yours."

At some point, Banshee walks over and stands next to her woman. Barney looks caught between the two and tries backing away. "I don't know what you're talking about." She shakin her head in denial like a preacher who's been touched by the Holy Ghost and about to start speaking in Tongues.

"Rachel. You really weren't planning on telling us? Especially me, the poster-child for teen pregnancy?" That's when Barney breaks down into the arms of the lesbians. Tears are pouring out like a broken fire hydrant so the lesbians pull the dead-weight dinoserr to the couch.

"San baby, I'm going to stay here with Rachel. Could you please go to the store and get another test?"

"Sure, Boo." Santananta grabs her purse, kisses the two girls on the forehead, and heads out my door. Imma say it again, whupped! The blonde Nazi must have some type of voodoo magic vagina to keep that hot-head in check.

As soon as my door closes, the crybaby starts up again. "Shh, it's going to be okay. We're here for you, every step of the way, no matter what happens." Hippie is stilll comforting her. "Do you need anything? More tissues or a drink"

"Actually, yes. I am a bit parched and would very much appreciate a glass of the rasberry tea in the fridge with crushed ice, not cubbed, and a lemon wedge sprinkled with sugar."

The white girl had to do a double take after that complicated order. "Uh, sure. I'll be right back." I shake my head, you give a Jew an inch and they take up the whole damn mile.

When the white girl stands and heads to the kitchen, her phone falls out of her pocket and in between the couch cushions. Of course, Barney see this and straight quick digs it out before it's lost for all o' eternity. Just like those dryer sock demons. She goes to place it on the coffee table but it vibrates in her hand and something on the screen makes her eyes bulge outa her head. You should know me by now, I'm nosy as fuck, so I gots ta take a look at what's on the screen, too.

**From Greg: I miss you, babe. When wil you be back?**

Oh no she didn't! I think I felt my water pressure sky rocket.

* * *

A/N: You guys have no idea how hard it was to write this chapter. Besides the writer's block I had to climb and the tough dramatic situations, wouldn't let me do anything on the site for a couple days. Extremely annoying is putting it lightly. So hate me if you must for what I wrote but as long as you share your opinions in a review I will continue to write this story.

And thank you everyone in advance, you're the reason.


	9. Rachel and Santana

**Piano's Point-of-View**

A/N: So, from here on out, I am royally messing around with the timeline of episode events to fit the story. Everything major that happened, still happens, just in a different order.

**Rachel**

_No! That can't be right._ So I re-read the text message, and like last time, my conclusion is the same: Quinn is cheating on Santana with someone named Greg. That puts me in an extremely compromising position. I adore Quinn and appreciate everything she's doing for me to help with my current _situation_ but Santana is also my friend, no matter how ill-mannered and disrespectful she is to Brody and I. Before I can further ponder my next course of action, Quinn reappears with my drink.

"Here you go Rach, one raspberry tea with crushed ice and a sugared lemon wedge," she places my beverage on the coffee table then sits sideways on the couch to face me. "Did San call while I was away?"

Her eyes are on her phone that is still in my hands, I purse my lips, knowing that honesty is always the best policy. "No, but you got a text message from Greg," I give her back her phone to see for herself. Her face transforms from the deer-caught-in-headlights look to the emotionless mask she would use in highschool as she reads the contents of his message.

"You shouldn't be going through people's phones, Berry," she states in her hardened HBIC voice.

"I apologize for that but it fell out of your pocket when you got up and when I retrieved it the message appeared," I implore her with my soulful eyes to say something, _anything_ in her defense. To tell me that it's not what I think it is but she remains mute and grips her phone tightly. "Quinn, tell me you're not cheating on San," I say, not being able to take the silence any longer.

"It's complicated," she finally answers and I feel outrage rush through me.

"How could you? After everything she has been though for you, you would treat her like all your other failed relationships full of betrayal and lies. I thought you had changed into a strong woman who never gave up, into a woman whom I completely admired. If you could do this to someone who truly cared for you, and even fought for you, then Kurt's right. You're still the insecure girl you were in highschool."

At that moment, Brody finally exits the bathroom, fully clothed, and makes his way over to us. "Hey, Beautiful," he says as he leans over the couch to give me a sweet peck on the lips. With his appearance, my own dilema is brought back to the forefront of my mind and I don't know how to manage everything that's going on. "I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" Brody asks, probably picking up on the tension in the air and the light tear tracks down my cheek.

"No, not at all, Rachel and I were just sharing some girl talk," Quinn answers seamlessly, like a seasoned actress. Immediately after that thought, I realize that the two had never officially met yet.

"Oh, I am so sorry! Where are my manners? Brody, this is Quinn and Quinn, this is Brody." They smile, brightly, at each other and that's when Santana comes through the door.

"Step away from my woman, Donkey-face, before I ends you," she states while covertly taking the paper bag in her hands to the kitchen.

"Nice to see you too, Satan," Brody answers back but still manuevers away from Quinn and closer to me. "So, has anyone eaten yet? Not counting Santana and the souls I'm sure she just devoured."

Before any blood can be spilt between the two, I jump in. "No, not yet. I've been seriously craving some Chinese, though. Babe, do you mind getting everyone a few platters of the usual and bringing them back here?" I smile, weakly, at him and hope he doesn't ask any questions. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold back the stress and tears building up.

Brody looks at me, really looks at me, and I can see the concern in his eyes. "Sure, anything for you," he says and in the next minute he's out the door.

"Now that Plastic Man is gone," San brings the bag over and drops it onto my lap. "I wasn't sure which to get so I got one of each." There are pregnancy tests of every size, shape, and color and I remember having a similar problem when I had to get one as well. In the end, I just picked the closest one in reach when it felt like I had spent hours in that aisle and people were starting to stare.

"San, this one isn't a pregnancy test, it's a thermometer," Quinn says as she reaches in and pulls out a slim box for us to see.

"Oh, well it looked close enough," Santana shrugs then grabs my wrist with one hand, picks up the bag in her other, and leads me to the bathroom. "Since I bought all of these, I'm going to need you to use every single one."

"What! There looks to be more than twenty tests, I'm not sure I need the restroom that much," I argue in disbelief.

"Hey, I want my money's worth," she states before trying to close the door between us.

"San, wait!" I exclaim while my brain is going a mile a minute.

She turns and looks at me with caring evident in her eyes and it breaks my heart. "Rachel, no matter what, I'm going to be here for you. We'll get through this," I want to cry again over how much that means to me, but right now isn't about just me. I can't stay silent when a dear friend is being stabbed in the back, even if the betrayer is a friend as well.

"Thank you, Santana. I just want you to know that I love and appreciate you so much," she rolls her eyes and gags but I saw the smile she covered up. "And no matter what happens, I'm here for you also. You need to talk to Quinn, ask her who Greg is," she picks up on my deathly serious tone and the color drains from her face. I reach up and pull her into a quick hug before retreating into the bathroom and closing the door.

* * *

**Santana**

I can feel the anger slowly coursing through my veins. Like a snake, it slithers it's way across my body, surrounds me, and constricts me so I can not move. I'm almost scared to move, honestly. If I could, I don't know what type of damage I would cause. Snix demands that I tear down the walls with my bare hands, use a chair for batting practice against all of the furniture, fling every single cup, dish, and Barbra Streisand dvd in sight out the window; and scream at the top of my lungs: FUCK YOU!

I want to do all that, I yearn to destroy the world that feels like it's destroying me, but where will that get me? Thousands of dollars in debt for property damage and a crying mess of myself when it's over. Been there, done that, don't feel like doing an encore.

A few minutes ago, Quinn left after admitting that she never actually broke up with Prof. Patches, aka Greg. Of course, she gave me the "it's complicated" speech about how he needed emotional support to make it through his divorce but I didn't care for it. I told her to leave while I still had control over my anger. She's a smart girl so she left, just like that. I should probably also be angry at how easily she can leave me behind.

In truth, I'm not angry at Rachel for her discovery, or the world for being a bitch, or even Quinn for being who she is. No, I'm angry at myself. I knew what was going on, deep down I knew, but I ignored my gut feeling and took a leap of faith. Now, I fully understand how all gifts can also be curses. My psychic Mexican third eye is never wrong, even when I wish it to be.

"San?" I hear Rachel's voice being uncharacteristically small. I visualize all of this anger being shoved into a small room and I dead lock the door behind it.

"So, how are the results?" I ask nervously while I approach her. For a long moment, she is quiet as a mouse but then a small smile makes an appearance on her face.

"All twenty-six tests and a thermometer state that I am _not_ pregnant. Now, tell me how it went with Quinn," she says as if a pregnancy scare were a normal occurence.

"Hold up, Rachel, you can't just blow past this like nothing ever happened," it seriously blew my mind that she could be so unaffected by this when, no more than an hour ago, she was bawling her eyes out like the time we heard of Mr. Rogers' passing. "This is a wake-up call. This is an opportunity for you to take a hard look at the choices that you're making, where your life is heading."

"I understand that and I know you speak out of caring but for now, could we please just drop the subject?" Half of me wants to say hell no but the other half, that sees Rachel clearly struggling to deal, relents.

"Quinn's still with the old guy so I told her to leave," I state plainly. "And no, I don't want to talk about it," I add before Rachel has a chance to ask.

* * *

It's been a couple of days now, and everyone in the loft seems on edge. I don't know if they're just waiting for me to finally explode over Quinn or if it's cuz their special edition of Les Miserables hasn't come in the mail yet. Either way, it's making me restless, and when I'm restless, I scheme.

In the past, my scheming may have caused an outbreak of mono, but this time it's completely altruistic. To protect Rachel and Kurt, I've been tailing the Ken doll to find proof that he's a drug dealer. So far, I've found nothing and it's frustrating the woman-loving ever out of me.

Right now, Donkey-face is watching a class of freshmen while the actual instructor is who knows where. The way everyone seems to adore him and his fake little smile reminds me of _her_. The anger that I locked in that room is banging on the door, demanding to be let free. I close my eyes and take a slow, deep breath then exhale. When I open my eyes, I feel nothing. I am comfortably empty, they same way I've been since I told Quinn to leave.

At first, the emptiness was so vast that it scared me. It felt like it echoed against my rib cage every morning I woke up, when I ate, when I thought, but now; I'm used to it. The only time I feel anything now is when I think of the one that left me jaded. Looking at Mr. Perfect reminds me of her and that anger keeps knocking on the door. I'm so done with watching this creep, time for a different approach.

"Come on, this will never cut it with Cassie," he says to the female class while I make my way near and lean on the door frame.

"Don't get to close to this one, girls, unless you're immune to the herps," I announce and he turns and looks at me with those, falsely, innocent eyes in surprise.

"Take five," he tells the class, quickly, then faces me. "How'd you get in here?"

"Don't apply logic to Lopez and if what I just saw is any indication, I could get in here any time I want. I've got moves your mannequin ass couldn't handle," I say as I step past him to survey the room more.

"Do you know what your problem is Santana?" He takes a step towards me in challenge. "You're loud and you're rude and you think that attitude equals talent."

"Another thing I am: a hardcore friend. Rachel and Kurt are my family and I can smell your sketchiness from here. So let me tell you how it's going to be," I challenge him right back, HBIC fully engaged. "You're gonna move out of our apartment tonight or I can dig a little deeper and destroy you."

"You're all talk and no proof," he says, more for his sake than mine.

"Don't need proof, I know exactly what you are," _you're just like Quinn_, I almost say but catch myself. "Yo, fly girls, can I get some back-up?" From there, I go into a performance of Cold-Hearted that would make Paula weep and want to adopt me as her child.

"Everybody out!" A voice I didn't recognize yells from the door and everyone obeys her order as if she were Hitler. Not wanting to get arrested again for trespassing, I make my way out also but she stops me. "Except you," she points her Madonna-like cane at me as I give her a once over.

She's blonde, probably closer to thirty-five than she looks, and has abs for days. The lesbian inside of me can't help but think she's hot, in a cougar type way, and I finally confirm that I definitely have a thing for blondes. Also, the authority oozing from her body helps me figure out that she is none other than Miss Cassandra July.

"You," she begins to address me, "are not a student here. I would've had you in my class if you were, but you are not so, that leads me to believe that you snuck in. Given that overly theatrical performance, with sloppy foot work, and you're apparent hatred of Superboy you are either one of two things. Either a pregnant ex-girlfriend of his that he left at the altar, or the roommate of the incredibly sheltered David Shwimmer and her gay lackey, Powder. Honestly, I'm not sure which is worse."

The entire time, during her speech, she was circling and scrutinizing everything about me. I may be young, and she clearly older, but I know how to play this power game with the best of them. "My name is Santana Lopez, and the Hobbit and Porceline are mine to insult, not your's. Given the crow's feet wrinkles hidden behind concealer, Tequila Sunrise on your breath, and the dominatrix glint in your eyes; you must be Miss July. Was nice meeting but I have places to be that don't count as a waste of my time."

She is standing in the way of my exit and before I can walk past her, she laughs. It's not condescending or threatening, it's a laugh meaning that she was entertained. "Well, Santana Lopez," she looks at me with striking blue eyes, "I must say that you are an unexpectedly pleasant surprise from all the idiots and swine I have to deal with on a daily basis. I like you, you remind me of myself at a younger, and dumber, age," I lift my brow at that last sentence. "Just take it as a compliment," she reassures me and smiles for the first time, probably all day, and I smirk back in appreciation. "You're a resourceful girl, want to share in a round of Tequila Sunrise?"

* * *

A few hours later, a stroll back into the apartment, feeling accomplished and good about myself. It doesn't happen often, so when it does, I like relishing in it. I see Kurt and Rach sitting in the living room but they seem to be awaiting for my arrival. "Wonder Twins, what are you doing?"

"Santana, If you'd just take a seat, please, and join us for a little family loft conversation," Rachel says, in her long, drawn-out way of speaking.

"Creepy, but okay," I proceed cautiously and sit in the chair that was strategically placed in front of them.

"We just got off the phone with Brod," Kurt begins. "Did you confront him at NYADA with a Paula Abdul song?"

Before I could answer, Rachel adds her two cents. "You can't just march on in there and act all crazy. We go to school there!" I am taken back at how easily she believes the douche bag and doesn't even give me the benefit of the doubt. Even if I did, in fact, confront him with Paula.

"That was the best performance that place has seen in years," I answer and cross my arms, knowing that this conversation isn't going to end well.

"We want you to move out," states Kurt and I am genuinely hurt. From Rachel, I expected this, but for him to go along with her is shocking.

"You're joking."

"We're not," confirms Berry. I take a moment to gather my thoughts and make sure Snix juice is kept minimal.

"Olsen twins, let me tell you something, I have known you both for years and I don't like either of you 90% of the time. In fact, you're wide-eyed Keane painting approach of life makes my teeth hurt and my breasts ache with rage, but you know what, I have love for you. You're my family but if you want me to move out then that's fine."

Without looking in their direction, I grab my bag and head out into the night. When I'm walking down the street I pull out my phone and dial a new number. "Hey Cassie, wanna grab that drink now?"

We make plans to meet within the hour at JBE, she seems like the type to love that place. I wonder if I should hail a cab, but walking is helping me calm down. Taking a deep breath, I sigh. How did I get myself into this situation? I'm homeless, single, and going to meet and crazy, Broadway cougar. It's not even fair, but I should've learned by now that life sucks for no apparent reason. The icing on the cake, though, is that this weekend is Valentine's Day and Mr. Shue's wedding.

* * *

A/N: Dun dun dun! So, I would like to hear your thoughts and opinions on the interaction of Cassi and Santana. Also, for you Quinn fanatics, the next chapter will be entirely from Quinn's pov so we'll get the hear her side of the story... and we all know what goes down on V-Day!

Hope you're excited and will try to post it asap, the more comments, follows, and favs I get dramatically increases my motivation and inspiration so please: show me your love! And I love you all, too ;)


	10. Quinn

**Piano's Point-of-View**

A/N: First off, I would like everyone to give a moment of happy remembrance for Cory Monteith.

...

...

...

His passing has really hit me, even though I didn't even know him and people give me shit about it, but it still hurts. I can't even imagine what his friends and family are going through and my thoughts are with them all, especially Miss Michele.

It's like learning one of your heroes died before they even hit their prime, before they could be recognized for how great a person they really were. Maybe I'm just projecting some of my own losses that I haven't fully dealt with, having lost friends in the war, but either way Mr. Montieth will remembered in my heart as a good man.

That being said, it feels strange writing fanfiction on Glee now. I promise to finish my WIP's but they may have a more serious/angsty undertone that I can't help but let bleed into my writing.

**WARNING:** This chapter contains intense feelings of angst and explicit sexual content. (Lemon)

**Quinn**

I'm lying on my side in bed, watching the clock on my night stand. Just waiting for the digital numbers to show 7:00 a.m. and the alarm to go off so I can press snooze. A second later, it does and I reach over and sigh. Another fitful night, leaving me feeling exhausted and I haven't even gotten out of bed yet. I roll onto my back and stare up at the white, stucco ceiling. Is it even worth it to go to class? It's Greg's class today and I know he'll just corner me afterwards and ask why I won't return his calls or messages.

I close my eyes, weighing the pros and cons of skipping Psychology, when I am hit with a memory. Hot and slick caramel skin sliding against my bare body, setting me on fire. _I want you._ I gasp and open my eyes, a lone tear escapes me.

She haunts me. I can't go a few minutes without thinking about her, either voluntarily or involuntarily, and every time I remember her my heart breaks all over again. It's like I'm lost in the middle of an ocean, drowning. The water is made up of broken glass and every time I try to breathe, the glass tears it's way down my throat and cuts me up from the inside. I am in complete misery and it's all my fault.

I'm such a fucking idiot.

I yank away my bed sheets, angrily, and head towards the bathroom, intent on having a scalding hot shower.

* * *

I'm at the park, just outside of campus, with a book open on my lap but I find myself people watching. Santana and I used to do this when we first met in junior high. We would make up ridiculously dramatic stories about random people passing by, give them a funny accent, and just have fun with our little game.

Now, though, I wonder about their real life stories. Like that teenaged couple playing on the swings, are they truly in love or is one cheating on the other with the best friend? Or the lonely, old man feeding the ducks. Why did he push everyone in his life away until this is all he had left?

Is anyone playing this same game on me? Have they figured out that my pretty, manufactured face hides many ugly truths? That no matter what, I never feel good enough, I'm always inadequate in some way. That my insecurities lead me to sabotage everything good in my life. That my subconscience need to regain the approval of my family, that's broken beyond repair, keeps me from being my true self; keeps me from being happy.

Yesterday, after many unanswered texts, I finally gathered the courage to call Santana. Of course, it went to voicemail but I can't blame her. For those few moments, when the phone was still ringing though, I couldn't control the rate my heart was beating and the speed of my thoughts. If she picked up, what exactly would I say? I'm sorry? How could that ever make up for the wrong I had done to her?

It wasn't enough, no words would ever be enough to express just how much regret I feel for my actions. No song could ever be enough to beg her forgiveness. No single act of honesty could ever be enough to win back her trust.

The buzzing of my phone breaks me out of my reverie, quickly I pull it out of my bag and hold my breath, could it be Santana? I read the name on the screen and feel my hopes dashed, it's Brittany. Trepidation fills me and I bite my bottom lip as I answer. "Hello?"

_"Q, I've been trying to call you for days!"_

"Really? Were you using a phone when you tried?"

_"No, at first I was using the t.v. remote but then I found Kiki inside the fridge."_

"Well, that's good. Now that you have successfully called me, what did you want to talk about?"

_"Quinn, you already know what."_

Her statement hangs in the air for a minute, she always knew how to get to the heart of things and people. "What do you want me to say, Britt? I messed up big time. I hurt San so much that she refuses to talk to me and I have no idea what to do to make it right. I don't even know if I'm able to make it right."

_"But you want to try, don't you?"_

"Of course, the least that Santana deserves is an apology, even if she doesn't accept it."

_"Then you will get your chance at the wedding, I'll make sure of it."_

* * *

The ceremony, well there was no actual ceremony, but it was a bust nonetheless. With Miss Pillsbury becoming a runaway bride, and Coach Sue reveling in the spotlight as usual, I don't feel so alone. Though, technically I am alone, sitting a few rows behind the old glee gang, at least I'm not the only one going through relationship issues.

While we were still anticipating a wedding, I couldn't help but zero in on the one who plagues my thoughts. She's as beautiful as ever, in a skin tight red dress, sitting next to Brittany and Sam. Mercedes is on her other side, followed by Blaine, Kurt, then Rachel, and it seems a little tense between the roommates. While muffled comments, or insults, were exchanged between the three , I caught her eyes dart quickly at me then away.

In the fraction of the second that I held her attention, I tried to decipher the emotions swirling within her deep brown eyes. I could only recognize anger. I remind myself to breath as a familiar pain seizes my heart.

After Coach almost shocked Mr. Schue into a coma, the church was slowly emptied out into the courtyard. I start wondering what plan Britt has that would enable me to apologize to San. She was very vague on the whole idea, and just asked me to trust her. Which I do but sometimes her ideas are too out there, guess I'll just have to be quick on my toes when it happens.

"There's my favorite white girl! Where's my hug?" Announces Mercedes. I laugh and give in to hugging her.

"How've you been, Cedes?" I ask when we part, grateful for someone to talk to.

"It's been busy, to say the least. I was hoping that coming back home would give me some rest and relaxation but there never seems to be peace within our group. We might need to stage an intervention before the day is done."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, turns out that Kurt and Rachel asked Santana to move out of the apartment since she keeps attacking their booty calls. You can just imagine how well that's turning out."

"What! How could they?"

"I know, right? San insists that she's better off without anymore homicidal urges, now that she doesn't live with them, but all three of them are a wreck. If only they could put their pride aside and just say I'm sorry, everyone would be happy."

"Yeah, easier said than done."

"Which brings me to you, specifically, you and Santana. What's the dirt? And don't even think about lying to me Fabray, I am the Gossip Queen, afterall."

I'm frozen, I've never had to explain my situation before. How do I tell someone who, the entire time they knew me, thought I was straight, that I'm not? Brittany, Rachel, and Kurt knew because of Santana while I never told anyone for myself. I don't even think I've said it out loud before. I'm not gay, or a lesbian, but I'm not straight either.

"How bout this," Mercedes tells me when I'm unable to answer her. "You can take your time telling me at the reception. You're always going to be my white chocolate soul sister and you can talk to me about anything."

"Okay," is the only thing I say before we make our way to the reception hall.

* * *

Even after everyone is done eating and people start dancing to the music, I still don't know what to say. No, that's not true, I know what to say but I'm scared of saying it.

"It's okay, baby girl, whenever you're ready to talk." Mercedes is rubbing my back, comfortingly.

I take a big breath. I can do this, I tell myself, even though there's a huge knot in my gut and another voice in the back of my head telling me I'm going to hell. "I've liked Santana for as long as I can remember," Cedes has no reaction to that revelation, meaning I have to elaborate more. "Liked as in I wondered how it felt to kiss her, and wanted her to be my girlfriend." That finally got the jaw-dropping response I expected and it felt like I might puke at any moment. "But when I finally got what I wanted, I screwed it up by cheating on her. Now she won't talk to me and I don't know what to do."

"So, you're telling me you're not straight?"

"Not entirely, no." There, I admitted it and my face felt like it would burst into flames. Still, I waited on baited breath what Mercedes would say next. Condemn me for all eternity? I know it was a crazy, irrational thought but it still popped into my head.

"Wow. Okay so, I'm not judging you but why did you cheat?" From one hot topic to another, she never did pull her punches, but at least she seems to still want to be friends.

"I think," I stopped to make sure I worded my explanation correctly and honestly, "I think that I was scared. I wasn't sure if she had real feelings for me or if I was just a rebound after Brittany. So just in case, I liked having someone as a back up." Speaking aloud my motives made me even more disgusted with myself. I sighed and my body seemed to deflate into sagged shoulders. "I was being foolish, especially thinking that she wouldn't find out."

"Do you regret hurting her or do you regret getting caught?" I already know my answer for that.

"I regret hurting her. In that one week we were a couple, it felt so right. She was still Santana but also caring and sweet and she understands me in a way no one else can."

"Q, I'm going to tell you something that only one other person in our group knows." The dark ghosts swirling in Cedes' eyes instantly pull my attention and I lean in closer. "Remember Shane? I cheated on him with Sam last year. The mystery summer guy I told you about was Sam before his family moved. Then when he came back and I was with Shane... I just couldn't stop my heart from feeling what it did. In the end though, I told Shane the truth. He broke up with me and then I ended it with Sam."

"What, why? If you and Sam felt the same way about each other, why not be together?"

"Because I didn't trust myself. Before the whole thing started, I never intended to cheat on Shane. He was a perfect gentleman and we had real feelings for each other. What I did hurt him so much that he _cried_ in front of me." She goes silent and in that moment we share a deeper understanding of each other. She knows how I feel because she felt it too. "I always saw him as being so strong and look what I had done to him. He deserved better than the pain I caused him so how would it be fair to stay with Sam as if nothing happened? If I did that, what would prevent the cycle from starting all over again? When you cheat on someone you care about, how can you trust yourself?"

* * *

After Mercedes' revelation, she had a musical number to perform so I spent my alone time thinking about her words of wisdom. Did I trust myself? Have I ever trusted myself? Looking back on my past mistakes, I knew that the only thing I could trust myself with was self-preservation, aka saving face. Maybe that was enough for a younger me, but now it was disappointing. I never really thought about how deep my selfishness was until now. I felt ashamed.

Everyone was on the dance floor now, having fun. I found Britt dancing away with Sam but I couldn't spot Santana anywhere. My brows met in confusion, where could she have gone?

"May I have this dance?"

I look up in surprise and see Joe holding out his hand with a big smile gracing his features. "Sure, why not," I answer and he leads me forward.

We join our large group of dancing friends and I try not to let my face betray my thoughts. We exchange small talk, nothing too serious, and I am reminded why I like him so much, as a friend, that is. He has his faith, his beliefs and he sticks to them, never wavering. I wish I could be more like him, more like Mercedes, but I'm not.

The song is ending and I am being spun around playfully. Out of the corner of my eyes, I finally find her. She's sitting alone at the bar, drinking her third big glass of something that is definitely alcoholic. I thank Joe for the dance and excuse myself to talk to San before it's too late.

"I'll have what she's having," I say to the bartender as I sit on the stool next to the Latina.

"I.D. please," he says back and I pull out my Hawaiian I.D. effortlessly. He inspects it for a second then pushes the glass towards me, "Here ya go, Miss Stark." I smile at him in thanks before I take a sip of the unknown liquid.

It's cloyingly strong and I hold back my immediate reflex of cringing before turning to face the scowling beauty. "San, could we please talk?"

She laughs down at me, and I admit that it hurts. "What makes you think I want to talk to you? Can't you take a hint when I don't answer your texts or calls? I thought Yale was a place for smart people who slept their way to the top of the world." Ouch.

"Okay, I deserved that but at least hear me out. I want to apologize." I say in a rush, afraid that she might stand up and walk, or stumble, away at any moment. She's staring at her nearly empty glass, circling her finger around the rim. The scowl she had when I sat down is now pensive. A dim light of hope grows within me, at least she hasn't thrown her drink in my face. Then she turns to look at me and, in her eyes, the anger has returned with a vengeance.

"Too bad, you can't get everything you want. Even if you are the flawless Quinn Fabray." She gulps down the remaining liquor and fiercely walks away as if she hadn't drank a half bottle of Jack by herself. I watch her leave, fixated on the sway of her hips. With every step she takes, it's like she's saying 'see what you could've had.'

"Quinnie, here." My dark thoughts are interrupted by Brittany, who at some point must have ninja'd her way next to me. She hands me a plastic card with a smile.

"What's this?"

"The spare key to the room Santana went to." I'm struck speechless once I've figured her plan. I look at the card key like it's the last golden ticket to the Chocolate Factory.

"Thank you, Britt." I say sincerely and envelop her in a hug. "Why are you helping me when I hurt her so much?" How is it that she's even still my friend?

"It wasn't long ago when it was me hurting her and you helped me."

* * *

"Britt, is that you?" Her voice is broken and hoarse, as I enter the room more, I see why. Santana is curled on the bed and sobbing into a pillow that she's clutching onto for dear life.

"No." Her back is to me and when I answer, the shaking of her shoulders stop. She seems to bury her head under the pillow but then uncovers it so I can still hear he speak.

"Leave me alone, Quinn. I'm sure Joe wouldn't mind being another victim to your fucking games." The venom slowly drips from her words as I realize she must have been watching us on the dance floor. I take a few steps towards her form on the bed, wishing I could comfort her somehow but knowing that it'd just make things worse.

"I'm not leaving you until I apologize, properly." I finally say, remembering why I came here in the first place.

"Really? I thought it was one of your favorite things to do." She responds without a second of hesitation, causing my frustration to escape.

"Santana, I'm sorry! I'm fucking sorry, okay." I pause to see if my words have any effect. "I messed up this amazing connection we share and it wasn't even worth it. I don't care about Greg, or Joe, or anyone else that's walked through my life. I only care about you, I've only ever cared about you. No one else has been with me as long as you have, no one gets me the way you do. I don't want to be with anyone _but you_." Those few, truthful sentences made me feel like I just went through a triathlon. I feel ready to pass out, with how fast my heart is pumping, but I refuse to. I'm waiting for San's response which turn out to be a viciously thrown pillow to my head.

"You're so full of bullshit, get out!" She is sitting up and facing me as she yells this at the top of her lungs.

"No." I challenge her, immediately. "I'm not leaving you like this."

"I don't need or want your mother fucking pity!" A crack echoes through the air before I register that she moved off the bed. She slapped me. My cheek burns, numbly. Tears form in the corners of my eyes but do not fall. I deserved that. I turn my head back to look at Santana. Her make-up is smudged, tear tracks down her face, and swollen eyes narrowed in scorn.

"I bet the only reason you're here is cuz Patches found an easier lay that wasn't damaged goods. I bet you're just dying to get fucked, since you've hit a dry spell, that almost anyone will do. The only reason you didn't chase after a guy tonight is cuz they're either gay or already rolled around in the hay with you and know the crazy in your head isn't worth that golden vagina. So who's left, out of our incestuous little group, me. The only God-damned lesbian in this entire fucking town that actually gave a rat's ass about you. So what, if you stabbed me in the back and treated me as if I were a toy to be played with when it was convenient. All you have to do is batt your eyelashes, flash your tits, and the raging homo inside me would take over. Right? Tell me I'm right."

"Go ahead and slap me, insult me, call me out on all my mistakes. Just know that I'm sorry and want to work this out." I whisper, hoping she doesn't take me up on the slapping part, but knowing I would still stay and endure it if she did.

In the next instant, she growls and shoves me hard against the wall next to the door. The back of my head rebounds hard, but before I can gasp in pain, rough lips press forcefully against mine. My mind instantly goes into autopilot so I kiss Santana back with the same ferocity. It's hard, biting, and full of aggression and pent up frustration. Her lips, teeth, and tongue work in unison to manipulate my sensitive flesh and leave me struggling for air.

Suddenly, she pulls away from my mouth to whisper, harshly, in my ear. "This is your last chance to leave, Fabray," her statement is punctuated by her canines sinking into my pulse point. I moan helplessly, pressed tightly between her and the wall, I feel every curve and delicious dip of her body. _I want you._ My mind is screaming that she's dangerous right now, that I need to escape, but my body wants her and refuses to move.

When she is done sucking, vigorously, on the bite mark she made, she stares deeply into my eyes with rage and violent lust. It feels like the floor disappears from under me and I'm falling but I push my fears away and lightly grasp her jaw in my hands. She's justified in her anger towards me, but I know deep down, she still cares. So I place a wet kiss upon her lips, silently telling her that it's okay.

At the beginning, she was stiff, but eventually gave in and returned the kiss in full force. This gave me hope that maybe all wasn't lost, maybe she would forgive me and we could work through this. When we parted, I still held her as close as possible to me. Her arms were now wrapped around my back, keeping me pined to her body, and I could feel her heart beating wildly within her chest. We both were panting for air and when I looked into her eyes, it was like a battle between her emotions was taking place.

"San, I-"

"Shut up." She growls and surges forward to claim my bruised lips, once again. The violent lust has returned and I'm almost smothered by it's intensity. She's everywhere, all over me. Sharp nails drag down my back, at some point she must've unzipped my dress, leaving fire in their wake and possibly blood. I let out a pained gasp but that seems to fuel her on even more. Her knee wedges itself between my shaking thighs and she lifts it just enough to know that my panties are thoroughly soaked.

Her lips finally release my tongue, that she had been greedily sucking on, and I can feel her smirk against the neck. "You're just loving this, aren't you." San whispers into my ear. "You love being dominated. That perfect self-control you fool everyone with just means you want someone to take it away from you. You can't even deny it when your juices are practically flowing down your legs and mine." She then sucks on my earlobe and a surprised moan escapes my lips. I shamefully grind myself onto her thigh in defeat. She then chuckles, humorlessly. "That's what I thought."

Her hands scratch their way up the back of my thighs, to firmly grip my ass, and lift me off the ground. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around her hips and she carries me to the bed. Her hands keep massaging my backside, even as she lands us onto our destination, and I can't help but wish her hands would move somewhere else nearby. In the next minute, she removes my wet panties, jacket, dress, and bra.

She doesn't take any of her clothes off before she attacks my pert nipples. Goosebumps spread across my chest and up my neck. "_Santana!_" I moan in pleasure, thankful she hasn't bit me there, and thread my fingers into her soft hair. Her tongue swirls around my hardened flesh then sucks it between her hot, supple lips. While she switches her attention to my other peak, her free hand is trailing from my shoulder to my knees and back up, making my quiver in anticipation.

When her fingers slowly start to travel between my legs, she stops abruptly and orders me to turn around. I want to protest, but the darkness that's taken over her eyes make me fearful of her reaction. So I unwrap my legs from around her, get on my hands and knees, and wait for her to do with me what she wants. A part of me is apprehensive, in all the times we've had sex, San has never been this dominant. She would be adventurous with just the right amount of roughness and this is a whole different story.

Suddenly, another crack hangs in the air and my ass cheeks are on fire. The second time she spanks me, I grunt in pain, but her hand gently rubs and soothes my reddened buttocks. Oh God, what is she doing and why is it turning me on?

"Now Quinn, I'm going to ask you some questions that you must answer truthfully. If I don't like the answer then I'm going to spank you, ready?" I nod my head in embarrassment and it earns me another stinging, spank. "I can't hear you."

"Yes!" I squeak, quickly.

"Better. First question, were you cheating on me the entire week we were together?" Shit, I don't respond fast enough and San hands out my punishment, strongly. My skin is more sensitive than before and that last spank felt more like a lightning strike than fire.

"...yes." I saw, just loud enough for her to hear. For a moment, the pain in my chest helps me forget the stinging pain of my rear.

"Why did you do it?" She asks, anger ringing through her voice.

"I was scared." Another spank makes me yelp louder than before.

"Elaborate."

"I was scared that I was your rebound." I almost shout. I could feel that she wasn't satisfied with my answer so I take a deep breath and continue. "I was scared of what people would think." Her hand stops halfway to my ass and a tear escapes my eye. That's the real reason I do anything, isn't it? I'm always afraid of what people will think. I feel the atmosphere shift, San loses the hard glint of her eyes. I wonder if I should turn around but then I feel her tongue licking over my sore butt cheeks. It's soothing, but still stings as if I had tiny cuts all over my skin.

She places one hand on my hip, keeping me in position as she continues to sooth me, and her other hand starts to tease my dripping wet folds. It seems like my entire body has become extra sensitive, with the first passing touch against my clit, I involuntarily jolt. Unperturbed by my reaction, Santana moves back and forth through me at a steady pace. My need to have her properly touching me is fogging up my mind. I can't think of anything but the sensations she's making me feel and the torture of waiting.

"_San, please..._" I hear myself moan, barely recognizing my own voice through all the lust and want. She stop the ministrations of her tongue, leans her body over me, and pulls my head back by my hair to whisper in my ear.

"Are you still with him?"

"No." I say as strongly as I could. "I stopped seeing him after you found out." She seems to weigh my answer for a few moments, still lazily teasing my center.

"Did he ever make you feel this good?"

I stop my subtle rocking motion and look her in the eye as best I could, "No one can make me feel as good as you do."

I scream in absolute pleasure. Her fingers slide deeply into my core and I feel full, stretched deliciously so. Magic finger rotate inside of me and hit me just right, causing my toes to curl and obscenities to fall from my lips. Slowly, she pulls out just to thrust forcefully back in, even deeper this time. "_Santana, ungh!_" I cry as she picks up speed and starts ramming into my cervix. I have no idea how many fingers she has in me but I feel myself tearing apart. Even if I'm ripped in two, I would never tell her to stop. If anything, I want her to go harder.

"Fuck, Quinn! Your pussy is so fucking wet." And it is, I can feel it. Moisture keeps escaping like rivers as she continues to pound away into my heat.

"_Santana!_" I scream again as my orgasm rips through me like a tsunami. I almost want to black out, it's that intense. Aftershocks feel more like mini orgasms, my body is convulsing, but that doesn't stop San. Her fingers are still moving in and out of me at a fast rate but now her other hand is making tight circles over my clit. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take and I know Santana has impressive endurance.

Suddenly, I'm flipped onto my back and San is suckling on my nipples again. "_Ungh! Don't stop!_" I keep repeating her name between my moans, knowing that it encourages her like nothing else. Then I feel it, the second coming tightening my every muscle. I pull San away from my tit and kiss her as the force of my second orgasm crashes through me and I shatter like a glass house.

Before my sore body succumbs to sleep, the last image I see is my beautiful Santana with tears in her eyes.

* * *

A/N: Hehe, your dirty thoughts? Were you not entertained?


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